Bloody Skies
by Toki Mirage
Summary: Being a gay Hero hunted by a crazy Dark Lord with delusions of immortality, a barmy old Headmaster who thinks it's his job to save the world, and the odd vampire trolling through the halls at night looking for a midnight snack isn't easy. Just ask Harry.
1. Chapter One: Awakening

**DISCLAIMER:**** Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling, and I am not making any money off of this fic or the podfics related to it. Anything you don't recognize as being from the books or movies or any other Harry Potter sources, however, belongs to me. Such as the original characters and aspects of the world that are original.**

**Summary:**

The life of Cyrus Obsidian (Harry Potter) has never been particularly normal or boring. How can it be when he's being hunted by a crazy Dark Lord with delusions of immortality, a barmy old Headmaster who thinks it's his job to save the world, and the odd vampire trolling through the halls at night looking for a midnight snack? A new name and school were supposed to fix things, but instead his life gets even more hectic as he's dragged into vampire politics, werewolf problems, and a non-human's idea of a 'normal' relationship.

Thrown into new and unpleasant situations at every turn, Cyrus is forced to adapt in more ways than one. The kiddy gloves stay off at Shikaan because the teachers don't care if you break your leg, another student is trying to kill you, or you're not smart enough to keep up in their class. Going to one of the most prestigious schools in Other Realm probably wasn't the brightest of ideas, but Cyrus knows the lessons taught at Shikaan will prove invaluable to his future.

Well... if he survives long enough to graduate.

Being a gay 'hero' never sucked so much.

**WARNINGS:** SPOILER ALERT – Violence, necromancy, zombies, dead things, death, blood, gore, molestation, pedophiles, vampire politics, killing, groping, Ron-bashing frottage, aphrodisiac, suspense, assholes, slash/mm/yaoi/yuri/ff/gay relationships, sex/intercourse (in aff and lj versions), _no_ underage sex (aka chan), huge disparities between individuals engaging in sexual activities (for example, 20 and 1000), threesomes, moresomes, student-teacher relationships, jealousy, non-consensual sexual acts, rape mentioned, actual/graphic rape (aff/lj), blood play, mature concepts, mature material, drug abuse, addiction, mind control, manipulation, biting, maybe necrophilia (we got necromancers, what can I say?), fellatio/blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, dominance-plays, heterosexuality, bestiality (we got werewolves and demons), magic during sex (aff/lj), sexually stimulating massages, homicide/murder, genocide, magically induced orgasm, magical stimulation, mpreg, blackmail, sexual favors, human trafficking, flaying, slavery, black market transactions, betrayal, prostitution, crossdressing, mental/physical torture, interrogation, kidnapping, fisting (aff/lj), desecration of cemeteries, maiming, het couples, eunuchs, castration, self-harm, cutting, brain damage, exhibitionism, fetishism, frotteurism, masochism, sadism, bondage, autassassinophilia, biastophilia, erotophonophilia, rimming/anilingus (aff/lj)… can't think of anything else…

These things are warnings for what _may_ happen and what has already happened.

**I would also like to thank Miranda Flairgold for letting me use her HP school idea along with the various species attending said school. Her story 'A Second Chance at Life' has been a huge inspiration for Bloody Skies. If you haven't read it yet, I insist that you do! **

_I'd also like to thank you lot for waiting (patiently or not) for the revision of this story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I have to say it's a lot better than my first attempt. (grins) _

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter One: Awakening

_oOo_

He was very good at using a knife. Slicing, chopping, dicing… If you held the base of the blade between thumb and index finger, cutting could be easier than picking your nose. Well, unless you had particularly large fingers. There was a certain art to being good with a blade, and Harry had definitely mastered it after all these years of practice. Too bad that skill hadn't helped him with potions in the least.

The first time Petunia had placed a knife in his hand, he had been five years old and very abruptly burdened with the responsibility of cutting vegetables for supper. He'd had no choice but to do as she said, and when he hadn't met her standards ('Thin and evenly spaced, boy!'), he'd been smacked over the head with a wooden spoon. Each night from then on his aunt had introduced him to something new in the kitchen, and before he knew it, he was cooking all the meals.

So it was rather peculiar that, with his hatred of all things that had to do with cooking, he found himself staring at the familiar blade in his hand. Where once small fingers had struggled to surround the whole handle, now he could easily manipulate it in his hand. The stainless steel glinted in the light that escaped from a nearby lamppost, and occasionally a reflected beam would bounce into his eye and momentarily blind him to the gravel under his feet and the swing set on which he sat.

He had left the house with intentions not in the interest of the 'greater good', as Dumbledore would say, but now that he found himself out here, he couldn't seem to dredge up the courage and self-loathing that had propelled him out of his relatives' house in the first place. Just his luck, really. And so, with a disgusted sigh, Harry tossed the knife onto the gravel at his feet and glared angrily up at the sky. Sirius stared back at him. Such a meaningless cluster of stars… so far from the _real thing_.

Absently, he swung himself on the swing. He wondered if Sirius had thought about it at some point, with the way his home life had been. He wondered if Sirius had ever wished for the bite of a cold blade while trapped in the forever repeating hell of his worst memories at Azkaban. He wondered… Fuck. What was the point? It wasn't like he would ever find out.

Harry jumped off the swing and kicked at the ground. If he wasn't going to do anything productive, he might as well go back to the Dursleys and put that knife back before Petunia noticed it gone in the morning. Its disappearance would be just one more excuse for her to get on his case.

_oOo_

"Boy! Get down here and cook breakfast!"

Harry rolled over in bed. It wasn't until Petunia started pounding on his door and unlocking it that he actually woke up. He peaked between the sheets to see the horse stick her face into the room and glare at him.

"Get up! Useless freak..." Other unsavory mutterings slipped from her lips, too quietly for him to hear. If it were anyone else, he would be grateful to not hear them, but he'd been putting up with Petunia's shit for too long to let her derogatory remarks scathe him in the least. "Dudders needs his breakfast!" she screeched, slamming the door to mark her suitably dramatic exit.

Harry just groaned and turned over, rubbing his face into the lumpy pillow. Since his dreams hadn't been terribly forgiving of late, he'd been up late thinking about Sirius again. With a sigh, he forced himself upright and sat slouched on the sunken mattress, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. In short, he felt like shit.

"BOY!!"

And so began another beautiful and peaceful morning at number four Privet Drive.

When Harry finally stumbled downstairs, it was under the stern and irritated stare of his charming aunt, who had come back up to hound him when he hadn't come flying out the door at mach two like a perfect little slave. Dodging the hand that tried to irritably slap the back of his head, he started in on the bacon without a word and waited for the horse to leave him alone for a few minutes of peace. When she wasn't hovering irritably over his shoulder, he didn't actually mind cooking. Much.

Petunia sniffed and left the kitchen when she deemed him awake enough not to burn the house down, leaving Harry blissfully to his thoughts… Blissful. Right. Sirius, of course, was the first thing on his mind. He bit his lip to suppress the tears that stung his eyes and blurred the image of bacon and skillet in front of him. If only he hadn't been so stupid… if only he had just waited… if he had, then his only parental figure wouldn't have died. Closing his eyes at the painful, aching hole in his chest, he fell into the memory of Sirius's disbelieving face as his godfather fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries.

"Is it done yet, boy?" Uncle Vernon grumbled as he waddled into the room, snapping Harry out of his depressing thoughts. The walrus had only been growing fatter, recently, and was currently working on a fourth chin.

Harry glanced at Vernon to make sure his uncle wasn't about to smack him for his delayed response. Seeing the man was focused on the paper sitting on the table, laid there by Petunia as always, he said, "Almost, Uncle Vernon," careful to hide his utter loathing for the man currently seating himself at the table. As the chair's poor legs creaked and strained under the tremendous weight, Harry amused himself with the image of the chair breaking and Vernon landing on his ass with a thud that would shake frames from the walls. Frames filled with pictures of the happy Dursley family, but never himself.

Turning his attention back to the stove, he took off the bacon and started on the eggs.

When breakfast finally finished cooking, Harry served it to the table of Dursleys, as Petunia and Dudley had padded and stomped in, respectively, while he worked at the stove. He waited until they had eaten enough that their stomachs wouldn't contribute to their irritability before posing a question that had been bothering him for a while now. The raven-haired adolescent just hoped a full stomach would incline Vernon to be more reasonable than usual.

"Uncle Vernon," he began, and those small angry eyes locked onto him with the customary look of loathing. He gathered up his courage and continued, "I was wondering if I could let Hedwig out to eat tonight? She's been locked up in the shed for three days now. I don't want her to starve to death."

Vernon's already irritable visage immediately darkened to one of utter irritation. "Boy, I've said this before and I'll say it again: that ruddy bird of yours stays in the shed! I don't want the neighbors to see anything strange!"

Harry supposed it was too much to ask to hope that Vernon could be reasonable no matter what the circumstances. A ball of anger sank into his stomach and set his insides aflame. He just barely kept himself from shouting. "But, it would be at nighttime. The neighbors wouldn't see any-"

"ENOUGH! 'No' means _no!_" Vernon roared, his face turning an angry puce.

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from letting loose a rather scathing comment that would have resulted in bodily harm. Anger coursing through his veins, he jerkily nodded his head and started clearing away the empty dishes of the meal he'd just cooked. He'd been allowed a piece of toast and a broken egg, which had quickly disappeared into his stomach before Dudley could decide he hadn't stuffed enough food into his bottomless pit and took Harry's food too.

After he finished cleaning the dishes, Petunia sent him outside to weed her gardens, barking clear instructions not to pull out any of her 'expensive' and 'rare' flowers. He wanted to tell her he knew more about gardening than she did at this point, since she hadn't dirtied her hands with it in ten years, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Normally this was his favorite part of the day, unless it was pissing rain. He didn't really mind the scorching sun, as he liked the heat coupled with the menial task of pulling weeds and primping flowers. It got his mind off other, less pleasant things.

Unfortunately, that morning's bout of weeding was interrupted by a red-faced Vernon, who came stomping out of the house looking angry enough to behead a rabbit merely because it looked at him cute.

"Boy…" his uncle growled dangerously, a glint of fury making his eyes sparkle in the late morning sun. Almost absent-mindedly, he glanced around for nosy neighbors before returning his furious gaze to Harry. "Get in the house. _Now_."

Harry stared up at him, a bewildered expression on his face. When he saw the anger increase in intensity, he moved quickly and brushed off as much dirt as he could off his knees and hands before he reached the door. Slipping out of his dirty shoes, he left them outside to clean later, so Petunia couldn't get on his case about him dirtying the floors that _he cleaned._ Vernon shoved him farther into the house and slammed the door behind them, the sound echoing through the still house.

"BOY!" his uncle roared, and Harry instinctually backed up a few steps.

"What?" Harry asked, keeping his voice as even and calm as possible. He'd only seen Vernon in this state of anger a few times before, and it had never ended well for Harry Potter.

"Don't you 'what' me! After everything we've done for you, put a roof over your head and fed you, YOU PULL A STUNT LIKE _THIS_?"

Harry stared in incomprehension.

"I JUST BOUGHT THAT BIG SCREEN TELLY, BOY! AND THEN YOU GO AND TOSS THE REMOTE RIGHT THROUGH IT!" A vein bulged on Vernon's forehead.

Harry, who now stood utterly flabbergasted in the hallway, noticed Dudley peek his head around the doorway into the living room with a disgustingly smug look on his face. Rage bubbled at the injustice of it all. "I didn't touch your telly!" he shouted. "It was Dudley!"

Vernon's face looked as purple as an eggplant. "HOW DARE YOU TRY TO BLAME THIS ON DUDLEY! YOU UNGRATEFUL-!" he aimed a punch at Harry's face, but the wizard ducked, used to dodging spells that moved faster than his uncle.

He didn't expect Dudley's fist, though, which clipped him on the side of the head and sent his body sprawling into the hallway wall. Lights flashed across his eyes, and absently he noted Vernon congratulating his son before a kick knocked the air out of his lungs. His vision spinning and unable to breath, Harry couldn't stop the accidental magic that exploded from his body and destroyed all the glass in the hallway.

"FREAK! Stop that freakishness this instant, before you destroy the house!" Vernon ordered, kicking him in the stomach again. The little air that Harry had managed to recover exploded out of his lungs in a wheezing gasp. Curling into a ball to make his body a smaller target, Harry wished his accidental magic could actually make things better for once instead of worse.

When he heard a few more explosions and Vernon's outraged shout and Dudley's cry of fear, he cursed to himself. Just before something struck his head and knocked him unconsciousness, he wished Fate hadn't had his parents killed and landed him in this mess in the first place. Slut-faced bitch.

_oOo_

Sunshine. A lot of it. What a horrible way to start a morning.

Harry groaned as the light shining through his window attacked his bleary eyes. Spears of pain stabbed through his eyeballs and directly into his brain, pulling him out completely out of blissful unconsciousness. He threw his arm over his head with a moan, hoping it would protect him from the pain-inducing golden rays of torture. His efforts were unsuccessful.

Thinking it best to figure out how much damage Vernon had dealt him this time, he twitched all his limbs and let out a small sigh of relief when he didn't feel the familiar sharp stabbing pain of broken bones. No, he just the bone-deep ache of heavy bruising.

Sitting upright, he cautiously opened his eyes again, peering through his eyelashes to block some of the sunlight. When he glanced down at himself, a pair of blue and purple arms greeted him. Grimacing, he lifted his shirt and stared at the sight of a large blotch of black on his stomach. That would take a few weeks to go away – if Vernon didn't land another hit there in the next little while. He sighed, and then winced at the pain that shot through his diaphragm.

With slow, careful movements, he pushed himself towards the bed, making note of all the places that hurt. He would have to be careful to avoid bumping into anything for the next week or so, as he didn't want to land bruises on the _bruises_.

Blinking blearily to clear the cobwebs from his head, he collapsed on the bed, facing away from the window. Petunia hadn't come to wake him up yet. Maybe Vernon had told her to leave him alone for breakfast, knowing that he wouldn't be in any condition to cook. Unfortunately, the horse wasn't exactly known for her amazing culinary skills. She'd probably decide breakfast was too much cooking for one day and drag him out of bed regardless.

Letting out a groan, he forced himself upright again and glanced at the clock. It read eleven o'clock. Cussing to himself, he forced his sore ass out of bed and stumbled over to the dresser. First step to not looking like human road kill: get into a new set of clothes.

_oOo_

The summer continued in the same manner for the next three weeks. Harry did his best to stay out of the way of Vernon, did the chores without complaint, and was locked in his room for most of the evening. Vernon hadn't lost his temper since the telly incident, but he did land a good smack on Harry every now and then if Dudley managed to blame some small thing on him – even if it was impossible for him to have done it. How could he have eaten his uncle's secret stash of doughnuts when he was locked in his room all night? Apparently what was obvious to any intelligent being on this dying planet escaped Whale-Logic.

Thankfully, Harry had somehow managed to con Vernon into letting Hedwig out of the shed at night by promising the Dursleys a summer of delicacies pulled from the recesses of all Petunia's cookbooks. At first, he'd thought that Vernon wouldn't agree, as the man could just threaten Harry with another beating. But apparently his uncle hadn't thought of that, and so Whale-Logic struck again. And far be it from Harry to take advantage of someone else's stupidity if it meant that Hedwig wouldn't starve to death in that hole of a shed.

The days dragged on, the only thing marking their passing the daily chores one list at a time, and soon his birthday waited right around the corner. Not that Harry was celebrating. He didn't expect any presents to come through his window this year to brighten his mood and fill his stomach with Weasley cooking, and it was all because of Dumbledore. Apparently, owls could be intercepted. Evidently, this meant that someone wanted to steal his chocolate birthday cake to sell it on the black market – that or poison him. According to the Headmaster, it wasn't wise to test his safety for such trivial things.

Because starving was trivial, apparently. As well as having any modicum of sanity by the beginning of term. But it wasn't until the day before his birthday that his rising level of paranoia made him begin to wonder if the high level of stress that resulted in living with the Dursleys was adversely affecting his psychological health.

Vernon was pleasant all morning, firstly. And not 'grunt, accept coffee, offer short glare before reading the paper' pleasant. No, he had actually thanked Harry for bringing the mail that morning. That had been the first thing to set alarm bells ringing in Harry's head like an early-warning system. It wasn't until he was dutifully weeding the garden that evening and Vernon came outside to get him that the alarms in his head started to go haywire, though.

"Boy. Come inside the house," he ordered, voice pleasant and pleased. The twisted smirk on his face was decidedly out of place.

Cautiously, Harry stood up from the garden and took the time to clean his hands off. Vernon watched him with smug, squinty eyes, and didn't shoot off any disparaging remarks about him being slow. That alone almost had Harry in a full-out panic-attack as he trudged up to the front door. After removing his shoes under the watchful eyes of his uncle, he went inside the house and tried to ignore the spiders crawling across the back of his neck as his uncle closed the door behind them.

"Get in the kitchen and make dinner."

Harry did as he was bid, watching Vernon out of the corner of his eye. Things weren't adding up. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and paranoia rose to new heights as he started preparing dinner and the whale just sat there, at the table, for two straight hours, while Harry cooked a many-course meal. He didn't even have a paper in front of him. He was just watching.

When he finished dinner, Petunia and Dudley were already seated at the table and ready to be fed. Harry served them, as was expected of him, sat down at the last empty chair, and waited for everyone else to take all that they wanted before he could help himself to the leftovers.

Vernon watched, though at least this time his attention was divided between the food and whatever he was so smug about as he stared at Harry. He didn't speak again until the meal was done and the raven-haired adolescent had cleared away all the dishes.

"Boy, there's something upstairs that I want to show you."

Freaking out even more, Harry had no choice but to let himself be directed into the hallway and up the stairs to his room, Vernon right at his back the entire time. It made him feel like a cow being herded with a cattle prod.

It was much sooner than Harry would have liked that they arrived at the door to his room. Well, Dudley's old room. There was still bits of junk that the miniature whale had decided were broken (read: he broke them himself) or he just didn't like. The string of locks that were currently left open due to the fact that he wasn't in the room was a daunting image to stare at as he tried to prolong the opening of his door.

"Go inside, boy." He could hear the smile and glee Vernon's voice.

Nerves sending electricity dancing across his skin, Harry put his hand on the handle and twisted. The door slowly swung open. Harry stared at the sight in front of him.

"Happy birthday, Freak," Vernon's voice oozed in his ear like a diseased puss before the whale kicked him square in the ass and sent him tumbling into the room. The door slamming and locking behind him barely registered to Harry. In fact, he didn't notice at all. His brain had shut down, denying the scene in front of him.

The first thing that registered was color. There was a peculiar absence of any color but red, and black and white shades. The red and white seemed to cling to each other, swirling and swirling... Why didn't they mix to become pink? The black... was a lumpy mass.

Harry collapsed to his knees in front of the colors on the floor, blood draining from his face as he realized what he was staring at. He leaned down and picked up a single pure, untainted feather. It seemed to be the only one that the red, red blood hadn't reached.

Hedwig, or at least what was left of her, was splattered across his floor like a parody of a red and white mosaic. It seemed distinctly separate from the black ashes that had become of all his belongings. At first, logic escaped Harry as to how Vernon could have burnt everything and then transported them into his bedroom, as his brain tried to reject the reality presented to it… but then he noticed the blanket under all the ashes. Vernon must have used it to transport his destroyed belongings.

But Hedwig… his owl had probably been killed right on this very spot.

Harry numbly walked over to his bed and sat down, staring at the scene for a few minutes before lying down and facing the wall. He curled into as small a ball he could, and cried. He cried for Sirius, for Hedwig, for his parent's photo album, for his Firebolt, for his invisibility cloak, for all his books, even for the homework assigned this summer that he had yet to finish. He cried until he had no tears left, and then his soul carried on his sorrow when his body could no longer sustain it.

_oOo_

11:59

Harry stared impassively at the glowing, red numbers of his alarm clock that reminded him of Hedwig. Turning his eyes away, he tried to block the memory by searching for something, anything, to distract him. His gaze fixed on the dark night sky outside his window, full of stars being smothered and choked by the smog of pollution.

It was with a strange emptiness and indifference that Harry noticed an odd sensation building in his chest as the comforting heat of his magic spread through his limbs, warming his body but failing to relieve the cold ball of pain inside his heart. For a moment, though, all physical discomforts were washed away in that comforting river of energy.

Without warning, the magic that had been gathering inside his body shot towards his eyes and tore through his head with a painful intensity that had Harry blindly gripping at his eyes and almost screaming in pain. He kept himself silent, however, not wanting Vernon to return. Biting his lip in pain, he frantically tried to figure out what was going on. Was it Voldemort? Had the warmth been because of him, lulling Harry into calm complacency, before attacking all the more fiercely? The adolescent was getting tired of all these surprise birthday gifts. He wanted a refund. It felt like someone had stabbed a cattle prod into his eyes and skull.

As the pain came to a crescendo Harry gave up gripping at his eyes, as it didn't seem to be helping in the least. Opening his eyes despite the fact that the tears streaming from them would prevent him from seeing much anyway, he tried to focus on something in the room to distract him. At first he saw nothing but darkness, but just when he was about to stumble out of the bed and try to find the lamp, light exploded in front of his eyes and sent pain drilling into his head. Closing his eyes seemed to have no effect, and soon the swirling, glaring lights came into focus enough that he made out a huge golden dome floating in the middle of emptiness. Falling off the mattress in shock, he rubbed furiously at his eyes and tried to see his room to no avail.

Scrambling towards the lamp on his desk, he froze in horror when his hands slipped on a slick, fluffy substance. Backing away and collapsing against the bed frame in horror, he grabbed the meager blanket on his bed with trembling hands and tried to scrub the sticky liquid and feathers off his fingers. For a split second, he was almost glad that he couldn't see it.

After he'd wiped off the worst of it, he stared around himself and up at the dome of light with a mixture of wonder and trepidation. What the heck was he seeing? It looked almost like a sheet or glass bowl with little chains of symbols floating around it. Vaguely, he wondered if they were those runes that Hermione used to study in Arithmancy. Unconsciously, he reached out to the chain and blinked when it stopped orbiting. How could he touch it? Shrugging, he pushed it along into new orbits and smiled slightly. It was something to distract him from the pain.

As if sensing his thoughts, a sudden burst of agony split his head in half, snapping Harry's control like a twig. His 'grip' tightened, and when the chain shattered, the dome of golden light was quick to follow, raining little bits of glass shards around him as blackness swallowed him whole.

_-Toki Mirage-_


	2. Chapter Two: Golden Brambles

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Two:

_oOo_

An aching pain was the first thing that registered in his mind when Harry awoke. Groggily, he opened his eyes to survey his surroundings. From the horribly disgustingly despicable wallpaper, he was at 12 Grimmauld Place. What a wonderful place to wake up and face the world.

His mind trailed off to the last things he remembered, and a stab of pain shot through his chest. He felt like someone had taken a spoon and carved his heart out. The memory of Hedwig, splattered across his floor... Tears started leaking down his face anew, and he closed his eyes with every intention of ignoring the world just a little bit longer.

"Harry?"

He kept his eyes closed and hoped the intruder would just leave him the fuck alone. He didn't want to talk to anybody.

"I know you're awake, Harry."

Absently, he wondered if he could wandlessly cast a hex at the person disturbing him. Couldn't they read the obvious signs?!

A cool hand smoothed the hair back from his head, and Harry sighed softly at the soothing temperature. His headache eased, making him wish for a cold, damp cloth.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk. I won't tell Dumbledore that you woke," the slightly rough, tenor voice said. It held a gravely texture, as if it had screamed too many times.

Curious, Harry peeked open an eye and saw tawny eyes staring down at him. They blinked at him before crinkling at the edges in a slightly worried smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Harry closed his eyes and turned his head away in disgust. How could he even _ask_ such a _stupid_ question? After everything the wizard had lost?

Remus swallowed nervously and removed his hand from Harry's forehead. "I... ah, I'll let you sleep," he muttered awkwardly before standing to leave the room.

"Remus..."

The man turned around and stared at Harry curiously, who was now looking at him with dead, emerald eyes.

"What... happened at the house?" Harry managed to rasp out, his throat parched. How long had he been sleeping for?

"That's what Dumbledore wants to know. A few minutes past midnight, the blood wards on the house just suddenly collapsed."

The memory of a golden dome of light flashed through Harry's mind, along with the crumbling chain of runes that orbited it. Blood wards? Oops.

Remus looked at him with an unreadable expression. "Do you know what happened, Harry?"

The adolescent stared at him for a moment. He almost opened his mouth to answer yes, but instead shook his head. Remus paused before nodding and leaving the room.

Why hadn't he just said it? Why hadn't he just told Remus that he hadn't been able to see anything but that dome and those runes? Why hadn't he just told him that he had broken the blood wards when his control over that weird power had snapped?

Dumbledore. To put it simply, he despised the man. It was because Dumbledore hadn't explained things earlier, in fifth year, that Sirius died, and it was because of the old man that Harry had had no contact with the Wizarding World or any of his friends for a month. But was that really reason enough to be unhelpful and keep such a huge secret?

He scoffed. He was as entitled to holding a grudge as the next person.

When no one entered the room ten minutes after Remus had left, Harry was pretty sure that the older man had done as he said he would, and didn't tell Dumbledore that Harry was awake. Grateful, the emerald-eyed wizard closed his eyes and almost instantly fell into a deep, healing sleep.

_oOo_

"-don't see why we can't tell him what's really going on, Severus. Why keep it from him?"

A disparaging snort cut through the room. "Oh yes, tell him all the little lies he's been told since he came to Hogwarts. I'm sure he would believe you."

Remus sighed. "You and I both know who's been behind the scenes, pulling the strings this entire time. Is it wise _not_ to tell Harry? He deserves to know the truth about Dumbledore, about all of this."

By the tense silence, Harry figured Snape had employed one of his best sneers. "He won't believe you, as I have said countless times before. Dumbledore was far too extensive in his subtle manipulations."

There was a rustle. "I disagree, Severus. I think that Sirius's death may be the catalyst to opening Harry's eyes."

Silence ensued. Sensing an end to the conversation, Harry subtly twitched in his 'sleep', and felt two intense sets of eyes land on him. He hoped they didn't realize he had already awakened, since they had been so deeply entrenched in their argument.

"Harry?"

Green eyes groggily opened, and Harry didn't have to fake the yawn that nearly split his face in half. He was still tired, but at least his headache was completely gone. He focused on where Remus sat on the left side of his bed, completely ignoring the presence of Snape.

"Remus?"

The werewolf smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Harry blinked languidly and pondered how he would respond to that. "Fine," he settled on. He did feel fine, physically that is, and he really didn't want to go into any deep and emotional shit right now.

Remus and Snape shared a dubious look. Harry just pretended not to notice.

"How were you feeling when you first awoke, Potter?" Snape asked, not sounding like he really wanted to know. Harry wondered if he was just asking the question for the benefit of Remus, though he had no idea why the Slytherin would do that. Snape hated Remus ever since the werewolf had almost eaten him back in school.

Harry turned to look at the man and blinked. Snape looked younger, for some reason. Well, in comparison to Remus, who was looking even more run down than he had the last time Harry had seen him. He wondered why that was. "I felt like shit." Snape raised a depreciative eyebrow. Curiously, he remained silent and didn't shoot off any cruel remarks. "My head hurt," Harry elaborated, hoping he wouldn't have to... wouldn't have to what? Tell them about seeing glowing lights? He hadn't wanted to tell Dumbledore, because he hated the prick, but why not tell these two?

Snape glanced at Remus. Where had Harry been when those two became friends? Where was the animosity that had tainted all of their interactions in the past? "Do you know _why_ your head ailed you, Potter?"

Harry shook his head and did his best to look innocent. He could tell that neither Remus nor Snape completely believed him, but they didn't push for anything else. It was almost like they knew each other well enough that they could silently communicate.

"Very well. I shall report to Dumbledore that you are awake," Snape said and stood up.

Pain lanced through Harry's head as if someone had just hit him with a sledgehammer. He gripped it with both hands and tossed slightly under the covers. Remus was immediately at his side.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

'What an incredibly stupid question,' Harry thought to himself as the pain slowly began to fade, leaving his body with an unpleasant ache. When had the pain traveled farther than his head?

He lay there for a minute as he felt something inside him _shift_ and settle. What, he had no idea. But now he felt strange... no, normal. Perfectly normal.

"Should I tell Dumbledore about his headaches, Remus?" Snape asked. Harry wondered why he was deferring to Remus's judgment. Why would the Slytherin do that? Snape hated Remus ever since the werewolf had almost eaten him back in school.

"-best that he doesn't know. Something is obviously not quite right with Harry, but Dumbledore would just tear into his mind demanding answers," Remus was saying. Snape seemed to think over his response for a moment.

"Perhaps, but we can't keep him out of the loop forever. He will begin to question us, Remus. He will want to know what happened five days ago at Potter's house."

Remus ran a hand through his hair. "What do we tell him, though?"

Snape shrugged. "The best lies are hidden in truth. Tell him Harry doesn't know what happened, or doesn't remember at least."

Remus raised a dubious eyebrow. "And he'll just leave it at that?"

"Perhaps."

Harry was watching the volley of conversation with a confused expression. Why weren't they going to tell Dumbledore? The Professor needed to know everything that was going on, for the greater good.

Dumbledore had always been very kind to him, had helped him settle in Hogwarts, had been there if he had questions or prob-

_What a pile of shit_.

Harry's thoughts came to an abrupt stop, derailed by the stray string of words. He blinked and frowned. What had he been thinking before? What was a pile of shit? Confused, he brought a hand up to his head and closed his eyes. He felt... odd. Something was wrong up here, in his head. There was a foreign... something... but _what?!_ It was driving him crazy! All these unanswered-

What unanswered questions? Those by Dumbledore? The Professor was just looking out for his best interests, telling him what he needed to know when he needed to know-

"Harry? Are you alright?"

Harry looked up at Remus with a blank expression. Snape was staring at him with a funny look on his face. "What?"

"I asked if you were alright. You were gripping your head in pain a moment ago."

Harry frowned. What was Remus talking about? Why would his head hurt? It had completely healed after the incident on his birthday. Speaking of which, he needed to tell Dumbledore about it right away.

"Dumbledore knows Potter's awake," Snape said carefully, slowly walking away from the door and closer to the bed. He and Remus traded looks.

Harry smiled. "He does? Bring him here, quickly. I have to tell him what happened on my birthday."

Remus frowned, and Snape subtly sent a wordless locking ward at the door. "What do you mean, Harry? I thought you... What happened that night?"

"I broke the wards." Remus gaped at him and Snape's eyes widened imperceptibly. "It was an accident, really. I couldn't see anything, but there was this dome around the house and weird chains orbiting around it. My head was hurting, and I started touching the chain of runes to distract myself. My control slipped, the chain broke, and the dome shattered."

A knock sounded on the door, and Remus turned to look at Snape with a mixed expression of panic and shock. "Dumbledore, he-"

Snape shook his head. "Potter, are you going to tell Dumbledore what happened?"

Harry frowned at him. "Of course!" Why wouldn't he? Dumbledore was a good Headmaster, and he had the Order of the Phoenix to run. He needed to know everything, for the greater good!

Before he could even move, Snape had grabbed his forehead with a hand and wouldn't let go. "This will be easier with skin contact, Potter, so don't move." Harry's eyes widened, but before he could open his mouth and yell for Dumbledore, his vision plunged into black.

He stared around in confusion when the darkness slowly lifted and he found himself in a graveyard, of all places. The sky was a gloomy gray, with no sun in sight, and the tombstones seemed never ending. The only flash of colour in the entire place was from golden brambles, which had entwined themselves almost all over the place.

"A graveyard, Potter?"

At the sound of a voice, Harry turned around and came face to face with an expressionless Snape. The black robes he wore made him look not unlike a grim reaper in the dreary landscape.

"Snape? What... Where are we?"

Snape smirked in amusement. "We, Potter, are inside your mind, and we have a few things to fix quickly so you can keep your secret from Dumbledore."

Harry frowned in confusion. "Secret?"

"What happened the night of your birthday, Potter."

Harry frowned. "Why would I keep it from Dumbledore?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Even in here, he has you wrapped around his finger." Before Harry could react, Snape pulled out a dagger and sliced away at him, fast. Inhumanly fast.

Harry flinched, but felt no pain. Curious, he looked down at himself and saw golden brambles in pieces at his feet. He blinked.

"Unbeknownst to you, Potter, Dumbledore has been manipulating you for the past five years. Remus and I have decided that it's finally time you knew about it. We hoped that if you stewed for long enough during the summer, Dumbledore would be unable to undo the damage that was the result of Sirius's death. Earlier, we knew you were awake, and we hoped that carrying on our conversation so that you could hear it would let us know if you had the same opinion of Dumbledore as we do."

Harry's eyes widened, and the memory of Sirius, and the newer memory of Hedwig, flashed through his mind. Along with them, came a gut wrenching pain worse than any portkey. Dumbledore... It was all Dumbledore's fault. He had made him stay at the Dursley's, he had... he had done so much! But why, moments ago, had he been prepared to spill his guts to the old bastard? And why was his memory of that time so hazy?

"I can see you are confused, Potter, though I can't say I'm surprised," Snape mocked, though it didn't hold nearly as much venom or heat than it had last year. What had changed? "I managed to catch Dumbledore before he could make the changes in your psyche permanent."

Harry's eyes widened in alarm. "Changes? What? What was Dumbledore doing?"

Snape leaned casually against a large tombstone, as if he hung out in graveyards all the time. "He was manipulating your mind, Potter. You see all those golden brambles in this desolate landscape? Those are Dumbledore's. He was using them to mold your mind into something that would be more beneficial to him than your newfound loathing."

Harry gaped at him and looked around the graveyard with wild eyes. The brambles were _everywhere_. They were also growing at an incredible speed. "How do I stop him?"

Snape shook his head. "You are no master of Occlumency. The lessons I had with you last year are proof enough of that. _You_ can't stop him at all. _I_ will be removing his influence from the main facilities of your mind for the time being, until we can properly remove him. This will be... a very hasty job. I've already started removing him from your decision-making center, and your current thoughts. Lucky for you, it isn't an active manipulation. It only comes into effect in Dumbledore's presence and isn't directly attached to the old man, so he won't be able to detect any changes I make in it. In a few moments, you will be able to resist Dumbledore's influence enough to lie about what happened five days ago, and to convince him that you are in his control enough so that he can leave the room with a free conscience. He mustn't know about this power of yours, or he will put _more_ compulsions on you."

Harry stared.

A slow smirk spread across Snape's face, though Harry thought could detect a hint of worry in his eyes. "Let's hope your acting skills are up to par, Potter."

The graveyard swirled around him and was swallowed in darkness. Harry felt a jolt, and then he was back under warm covers with a pillow behind his head. He opened his eyes to see Remus staring down at him, the skin around his eyes wrinkled with worry.

"Let's hope it was enough," the werewolf whispered to himself before nodding at Snape. The dark man went to the door and opened it for Dumbledore.

"Severus, my boy!" the old man greeted, eyes twinkling. "There was no need to lock the door," he said reasonably, "there are no threats to young Harry in this house."

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape said, lowering his head in deference.

Harry, meanwhile, lay completely still and watched the exchange with wary eyes. Snape shot him a look, reminding him of the professor's last words to him. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. Dumbledore had to believe that he was being completely truthful, but what if he used Legilimency?

"Harry, my boy, how are you feeling?"

When Harry opened his eyes, he put a smile on his face. "Just fine, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded amicably, and Harry felt guilty for a moment for doubting the Headmaster before he mentally bashed his skull against a wall. That was the golden bramble talking.

"Excellent! Then you're feeling well enough to tell me what happened on your birthday?" Grandfatherly blue eyes twinkled down at Harry from where he lay.

Harry laughed nervously. "Er, well you see, Professor, I don't actually know what happened. You probably know more about the whole thing than I do."

Dumbledore frowned and watched Harry with perceptive old eyes. "Really, Harry? You don't remember anything?"

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, so he could break eye contact for a moment. His head hurt just a bit. "No, sir." Perhaps it would be best to not lie completely, and just withhold a little information. It _would_ seem rather strange for him to just suddenly, and conveniently, forget everything that happened that night... "The last thing I remember is feeling a lot of pain, and then I passed out..." Harry tried to look concerned. "I thought... Was it Voldemort, Professor? Did he..."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in thought for a moment before returning to normal and twinkling happily. "It may have been, my boy. Though Severus didn't report any plans to attack your mind." At this, he turned an intense gaze to Snape.

"He didn't tell any of his servants plans of an attack, Headmaster, but he may have wanted it to be secret."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I see. Very well." He turned to Harry with a smile. "I will look into it. Get well soon, my boy," he said jovially before popping a lemon drop in his mouth and leaving the room.

It wasn't until the old man had left that Harry realized that he, himself, didn't _really_ know what had happened. Why had he seen those runes? Was he seeing magic? And if he was able to do it five days ago, could he still? And why had it happened on his sixteenth birthday? Weren't inheritances supposed to come into effect during magical maturity on a wizard or witch's _seventeenth_ birthday?

He also noticed that Dumbledore hadn't mentioned... what had been in Harry's room at number four Privet Drive. He must have seen the blood, and all of Harry's burnt belongings... hell, his wand was gone, too. Yet he hadn't said a thing. Hadn't asked why it had happened, hadn't asked how Harry felt about it all, hadn't even shown concern for Harry's well being.

What a fucking bastard.

"Remus?"

The werewolf looked at him, mildly surprised. "Yes?"

Harry bit his lip, and glanced at Snape before turning back to the werewolf. "Am... am I going to have to stay here, with Dumbledore, for the rest of summer?"

Surprisingly, Remus gave a small smirk. "Do you want to leave?"

Harry bit his lip. "Well... How can I, without Dumbledore getting in a fit about it? I... I don't want to be under his control. What if I lose sense of myself again, and I don't even realize it? Like what just happened earlier?"

Remus looked at Snape, who just shrugged, a gesture very out of place in the stuck-up potions master. He and Remus seemed to be pretty buddy-buddy... Again, Harry wondered why he had failed to notice it earlier. When the werewolf turned back to Harry, he had his full attention. "I think... the easiest and most efficient way for you to get away from here would be for you to 'run away' and vanish." At Harry's confused expression, he elaborated. "Severus and I will take you to his home, and you can stay there. When Dumbledore looks for you, we'll just say that we have no idea where you are."

Harry felt hope build in his chest. "Really? You can do that?"

Remus nodded, and was entirely unsuspecting when Harry launched out of bed and hugged him tightly. They fell to the ground with a thud, and Remus laughed. He looked down on Harry's messy head of hair and smiled.

"We'll take care of you, cub."

_oOo_

It was pathetically easy to sneak out of Grimmauld place. All they had to do was wait for Dumbledore to leave, then Harry walked right out the front door with a disillusioned Snape beside him, ready to side-along apparate him out of there. Remus had stayed behind because he supposedly 'didn't have a place to live', being a werewolf, and it wasn't at all unusual for Snape to be somewhere else. Besides, who would believe _Snape_ of all people helping Harry Potter, his eternal enemy, escape? It was ridiculous.

Harry hadn't actually known where they were going beforehand. He didn't really know the reasoning behind it. He just hoped that Snape wasn't spiriting him away right into Voldemort's hands or something equally redundant and cliché.

Therefore, he was quite surprised when they arrived upon a cute little house on a muggle street in the middle of god only knew where. It was a quaint little place. A two-story building with small windows and an herb patch growing out front.

Entirely un-Snape-like.

"Hurry up, Potter. I may not look busy, but I have things I'd rather be doing than watching you stare at my house all day," Snape sniped. Harry mentally shook himself out of his stupor and followed the dark man into the house.

It was small, but seemed very open due to good lighting and warmly painted walls. They walked right into the kitchen, which was decent-sized for such a small place. Attached to it was a living room and a set of stairs.

"Your room is upstairs, the first door on the left. Don't touch anything in the house and break it. The door in the living room leads to my study. Don't go in there," Snape brusquely ordered, shutting the outside door.

"Since you don't have any personal belongings, I will be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to shop for some essentials, like clothes. You can shop for more on your own, once you have learned Occlumency, and how to Apparate." Snape walked over to the counter and wandlessly warmed the water in the teakettle to boiling temperature. Harry stared. Snape poured the water into an odd kettle-strainer thingy. He could smell coffee. He just didn't know that one could make it without a coffee machine, like at the Dursley's.

"Why do I have to wait until I learn Occlumency?"

Snape looked up from the counter. He raised a cynical eyebrow. "What's the point of escaping from Dumbledore if you're just going to get caught by the first member of the Order that reads your surface thoughts and ruins your disguise?"

Harry, reluctantly, had to admit he had a point.

When his coffee was finished, Snape poured himself a cup and loaded a bunch of cream and sugar into it. Harry watched the man, not knowing what to think.

Snape sat at the table and saw Harry's expression. He raised a defensive eyebrow.

Harry blinked. "I just never took you for a cream and sugar kind of guy. I thought you'd like it black."

Snape snorted. "Remus likes it black, thought I can't imagine why." He scowled and shook his head. "Disgusting."

Harry chuckled slightly at the disgruntled look on Snape's face. Who would have thought.

There was an awkward silence, something not so out of place where Snape and Harry were concerned, without Remus there to mediate. Eventually, Harry just got sick of standing and looked for something to do with himself.

"You hungry?"

Snape looked up from his coffee and raised a disparaging eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. "Well, I just thought I'd cook us dinner. You mind if I use your kitchen?"

Snape seemed to deliberate over the question for a moment before he nodded almost imperceptibly. Harry took the initiative and looked through the cold box that wizards used in place of a fridge. There was, surprisingly, quite a bit of food in the box, though some of the vegetables were looking a little down. He wondered how often Remus or Snape cooked.

Harry pulled out what food he could save and tossed out the rest. Nearly emptying the cold box revealed a couple packages of steak hidden in the back. They weren't even brown.

Meanwhile, Snape was watching Harry scrounge through his kitchen in interest, while trying not to look interested. He didn't really see what Harry was trying to accomplish. Since when did the boy cook?

Eventually, Snape got bored of watching Harry and left for his study, tossing a comment 'not to burn down his kitchen' while he was at it.

Harry ignored the slur.

When Remus came home later that night, it was to a delicious aroma wafting through the house and a reluctantly impressed Snape sitting at the table as Harry served up some grub.

"Well, this is certainly a welcome sight to come home to," Remus said jovially as he slipped out of his shoes and shuffled over to the table.

Harry looked up and smiled. Home? Remus lived here? "Hey, Remus! How are you?"

Remus sighed and fell into his chair. Harry hurried to set a plate for him. "Dumbledore's gone crazy, though I can't say I am surprised. He has the entire Order running all over the place trying to locate you, and no one is having any luck." He turned to Snape, amused. "The look on his face was quite entertaining, Severus. I'm sorry you had to miss it."

Snape chuckled, and Harry, who had been serving Remus some salad and steak, couldn't help but stare. The evil greasy git potions master _Snape_ was_ laughing_? Harry mentally gave himself a shake. Really, what was he doing thinking things like that now? Snape had been greasy and a git when Harry had been at Hogwarts. Here, in this house, with Remus, the man wasn't half bad at all. Had he always been that way? Had Harry just been too blinded by Dumbledore's influence? Or had Snape just been acting a git back then to play the part? It was all very confusing.

Without saying a word, he served himself some food and sat at the table. Dinner was a quiet affair although not surprising considering recent events. They didn't have much in common to talk about, either. Harry's wandering thoughts eventually lead him to the question how had Remus and Snape gotten so close? And living together?

Near the end of the meal, Harry couldn't hold back his curiosity anymore. He just _had_ to know. "So, um... Remus, how long have you and Snape been..." He trailed off.

Remus smiled brightly. "It was a strange ordeal, really. I met him during my first year, and we often did potions homework together in the library. It was the only subject that James, Sirius and... Peter didn't like, so I had to try and find a study partner for it." He flushed slightly, embarrassed. "You see, I wasn't terribly good at potions, but I didn't want to keep such a bad mark like James and Sirius were content to do. We met for the first time in the library, me surrounded by a bunch of potions text books." He smiled wistfully. "Severus tossed a degrading comment, as he is woe to do, and I... er... told him to keep his trap shut and bugger off or help me out." Remus laughed. "The look on his face was priceless, and to my shock, he actually agreed to do it."

Harry watched the memories flash behind Remus's fond eyes. "I thought... Didn't James and Sirius hate Snape?"

Remus shook his head. "They didn't hate him right off the bat... It was... A few things added up..." At Harry's incredulously raised eyebrow, he sighed. "Well, James and Sirius were never very understanding or open-minded as children, and Peter just followed them around mindlessly. They, like kids will be, were possessive... When they found out I was hanging out with a Slytherin, they almost had aneurisms. They started picking on Snape, just because I was his friend. Through some misunderstanding, Snape thought I had turned my back on him and refused to talk to me, and I just didn't understand what had happened." Remus didn't sound sad, though, and the corner of his lips twitched upwards. "It wasn't until Sirius tricked Snape into going to the Shrieking Shack that things changed."

Harry frowned. "I don't get it. You seem almost happy that Snape started hating you after first year."

Remus smiled. "That's the part that's so ironic. My being a werewolf is actually the thing that brought Severus and I closer. If we had remained friends in school, the secrets we kept from each other would have eventually driven us apart, but because my secret was revealed to him, he was a little more open minded about being friends again."

Harry still looked confused.

Remus laughed. "You see, Harry, Severus is a vampire." When Harry's eyes widened in surprise, the werewolf grinned. "When he found out I was a werewolf, it gave us a bond. We were both classified as dangerous creatures by the ministry, and we were both hiding it from a school full of 400 children. We decided to pretend that Snape hated me, just so James and Sirius wouldn't become complete asses about our friendship again."

Harry's lips formed into an 'O'. "But then, why do you live together?"

Snape and Remus traded a look that had unease curling in Harry's stomach. What secret were they keeping?

"Harry... what's your opinion on homosexuality?"

Harry blinked, the question totally throwing off any nefarious plots being cooked up in his mind. "Huh?" He stared at the two for a minute, but both vampire and werewolf were just waiting for an answer. "Er... well, I know that in the muggle world it's not entirely accepted, and... that's about it."

Remus blinked. "Well, the Wizarding World accepts homosexuality as a very realistic occurrence, which is rather strange considering how anal they are about everything else. It depends on what country you're in, too..." He trailed off thoughtfully. "The only reason it ever becomes a problem is if the heir to a family line wants to marry a man, as a child can't come of the relationship."

Harry blinked. "Okay, what does that have to do with my question?" Then it clicked, and his jaw just dropped. "No... you two aren't..."

Remus chuckled nervously. "I've been with Severus since the end of seventh year, and I've been living with him for about ten years now."

Harry's brain just shut down. Remus... Snape... together? Did not compute. And Snape was a vampire. From what he remembered in DADA, vampires hated garlic, burned in the sunlight, and killed their victims when they drank their blood. Though, it was probably all a load of crock, as Snape had loved the garlic Harry had cooked the steak with, had walked in sunlight many times, and... blood. Hm...

"Er, do vampires kill their victims when they drink their blood?" he asked, putting aside the whole 'relationship' thought for another time. Better to deal with the immediate possible threat.

Snape stared at him coolly over his coffee. "It is indeed a possibility, but generally, no. If we did, we would have killed off the human race a long time ago. Our victims also don't turn into vampires with one bite. Most myths are incorrect. We can also eat solid food, though it doesn't give us any sustenance."

Harry hummed thoughtfully to himself. Snape had also been very fast, inhumanly so he remembered, in Harry's mindscape. Vampire, huh.

He had a lot to think about.

_oOo_

The first few days at Spinner's End, as Snape called it, Harry didn't really do much. For the most part, Remus and Snape just let him adjust to the house and his new situation. The only interaction they had for the first three days was when Snape gave Harry a mixture of muggle and wizarding clothes, and when Remus updated him on the 'Dumbledore Situation', as they liked to call it.

On the fourth day, however, the monotony changed.

Harry awoke instantly at the sound of a sharp rap on his bedroom door. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes and frowned. What in the world...?

"Potter, I know you're awake. Be downstairs in ten minutes." Snape's voice was slightly muffled. Harry didn't hear him leave, but then again, vampires were a quiet species, right?

It creeped him out, sometimes. Now he knew how Snape had always snuck up on him in the corridors to give him detentions.

With a giant yawn, he sat up in bed and tried to wake himself up. He had ten minutes to get dressed.

When he had finished, Harry walked down the stairs and entered the living room. He was a minute late, but who was counting?

"You're late, Potter."

Bugger.

Harry blinked innocently. "Good morning, Snape."

Snape's eyebrow twitched, but other than that, he was expressionless. Arms crossed over his chest, he gave off a daunting aura with his entirely black clothes.

"Legilimens."

It came out of nowhere, and Snape didn't even have a wand in his hand, so Harry was completely unprepared for the attack on his mind. Pictures of his summer at the Dursley's passed his vision: doing the chores, cooking all those delectable meals, eating the leftovers, looking through newspapers for any sign of Voldemort, taking the knife to the park, Vernon's 'birthday present', Hedwig, his wand, the shattering dome above him...

When Harry came to, he was flat on the floor, an ache bashing against his temples.

Snape was silent, for once, and didn't put forth any nasty comments on Harry's capabilities. When he finally spoke, all he did was ask, "How long have you cooked for them?"

Harry blinked slowly, the pain muddling his thoughts. How long... Why would Snape care? He'd just blasted through Harry's mind like that, and he wanted to know the answer to that kind of question?! He glared. "I started when I was five."

Snape watched him with black, emotionless pits. He felt them read into his eyes, but no memories started flashing, so he assumed Snape wasn't reading his mind. Finally, the vampire sat down in a chair, and an uncomfortable silence followed that was only broken by Harry sitting up slowly on the floor.

"I see," Snape conceded. The vampire blinked slowly at him and leaned back in his chair. "I will teach you proper Occlumency."

Harry frowned, confused. "What?"

Snape considered his words carefully. "I was teaching you in an ineffective manner." Something strange flashed behind Snape's eyes. "And you... are different than I allowed myself to believe."

He stared at Snape for a few moments, his mind uncomprehending of what the vampire was trying to say. Slowly, he realized exactly what was going on, and anger flared inside him from a pit of hatred. He was pissed. "You... you never even tried before?!" Flashes of Sirius falling through the veil superimposed over his vision. "You never even tried to teach me Occlumency properly?!" The conversation with Kreacher came to mind, the way the little wretch had made him think that Sirius wasn't at home. "You fucked with my head on purpose!!" The visions of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort. The false visions. "If you had taught me how to 'clear my mind' instead of bashing through my head yelling legilimens every night... SIRIUS WOULDN'T HAVE DIED IF YOU HAD JUST TAUGHT ME RIGHT THE FIRST TIME!!" Tears flowed down Harry's face, the first since the death of Hedwig.

Snape didn't even twitch. "There are many reasons you weren't taught properly, Potter." Seeing that Harry didn't look particularly willing to see reason, he ploughed on through. "Dumbledore was, of course, the main reason."

Harry's anger only increased as he switched targets. "What did the old bastard do this time?"

Amusement brought a bit of life to Snape's dark eyes. "He didn't want you to learn Occlumency, Potter. He wanted your mind weak to Voldemort's visions, and to his own manipulations."

Harry frowned. "But... he was constantly telling me to resist Voldemort, and to clear my mind before I went to bed."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Clear your mind. Do you even know what that phrase means?"

Harry blinked. "Er... think of nothing?"

A slow smirk spread across the vampire's face. "My point exactly."

Harry just looked confused.

"You have absolutely no idea what that phrase means, and it's not your fault. I never explained it to you, because I was ordered not to. If you knew Occlumency, then Dumbledore wouldn't get his clues from Voldemort through you, and you would find out about Dumbledore's presence in your mind."

Harry stared at him, running the facts over again in his mind until they started to make a small bit of sense. "So... it was Dumbledore's fault that Sirius died?"

Snape gave him a look. "You can blame just about every bad occurrence in your life on him, Potter. And you could _probably_ blame most of your brash behaviour on his influence as well. He wanted you to be in Griffindor, after all."

Something clicked, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, initially."

Snape's eyes widened imperceptibly. "You... could have been one of my snakes?" The idea seemed completely foreign to him.

Harry nodded, and took the time to sit down in the lull of conversation. "I argued with it, because I met Malfoy… and Ron, McGonagall, and Hagrid… they all said Slytherin was full of dark wizards." He wondered what it would have been like, if Snape had been his head of house. It seems the 'greasy git' wasn't much of a git after all, though his hair was still as greasy as ever...

So, Dumbledore was behind everything, huh? But some of it was Harry's fault. If he had just been thinking straight, he wouldn't have run off to 'save' Sirius on his own, and then his godfather wouldn't have died...

"You're wrong, Potter."

Harry looked up and blinked. Had he said that out loud?

"He was going to get himself killed sooner or later, Potter."

Harry gaped at him.

"Black wasn't entirely lucid after his little trip to Azkaban." His eyes were uncaring, bottomless pits, but Harry could see a small ember flicker in the coals. "Dumbledore locked him away in that house, a place full of nothing but bad memories, and wouldn't let him leave, help the Order, or see _you_, the only thing that kept him sane in Azkaban.

"Even if Dumbledore hadn't affected your logic and sent you running to the Department of Mysteries, Black would have escaped Grimmauld Place and killed himself some other way, Potter. He couldn't have stayed locked up forever. It would have driven him mad."

Snape watched Harry carefully. If the boy couldn't accept this, he would never be able to learn Occlumency. It would haunt him for years, and would serve as a weakness, a back door into his mind if an attacker knew what to look for.

Harry stared down at his feet. He wasn't sure if he was ready to accept that. Sure, Dumbledore had manipulated him, but Sirius was still dead. The pain wouldn't disappear just because he knew it wasn't entirely his fault. Just like the ache in his chest from his more recent losses wouldn't fade.

"Dumbledore... he really is a complete bastard... isn't he?" It was more of a statement of fact than a question. "He influenced my mind, my decisions, my life..." Warm liquid built in Harry's eyes, blurring the vision of his clenched hands. "How far did he go? Where... where does it stop? Why did he do it?" Harry was ashamed to admit that his voice cracked on the last syllable.

If Harry had looked up, he would have seen pity flash through Snape's eyes. "Never teach a tool to think for itself, Potter. I don't know the extent of it myself, but from the moment you met the Weasleys, you were being manipulated by him. I don't know when the compulsions, the brambles, were implanted, but he's been influencing your mind and coercing your decisions for a while now, Potter. The... damage will take some time to repair."

Harry wrapped his arms around himself, stubbornly refusing to let the tears fall. "Damage? How long?"

Snape shifted in his seat. "That depends entirely on you. If you take easily to Occlumency, it could take a month. If you have difficulty with it... it could take years."

Harry's eyes widened. That was a long time. "Well, when do we start?" he asked, determined to get rid of Dumbledore's control over his life as soon as possible. The moisture evaporated from his eyes.

Snape smirked slightly. "Right now."

_-Toki Mirage-_

Bit of a cliffhanger, I guess, but it's a good transition point.

Let me know what you think! I'm not taking the story in a completely different direction, but I am making Harry's transition to Shikaan a little more realistic, and adding lots of new touches along the way. (grins) I'm very happy with how this is turning out. I spent quite a bit of time on the Snape/Harry confrontation, trying to get it right, because Snape wouldn't suddenly and magically just care about Harry and stuff. I think Snape and Remus adopting Harry in my previous version was quite unrealistic, as many readers have noticed in the past. Thank you all for your support!

Again, I'm sorry about the review thing. If you have a signed review on any of these chapters, FF won't let you write another. I understand it can be irritating.


	3. Chapter Three: Occlumency

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Three:

_oOo_

"The first thing you need to know about Occlumency, is what the phrase, 'clear your mind', actually means. To do this, you must find your mindscape without assistance, and to do that, you must meditate."

Harry frowned. "How does meditating help someone find their mindscape?"

"It relaxes your mind. Since you are not thinking of anything, eventually you will be taken to your mindscape."

It still didn't make much sense to Harry. How did closing your eyes and thinking nothing magically transport you to your mind? The mechanics didn't quite make sense to him. How did it happen?

"Is this how you learned it?"

Snape nodded, taking a sip from his wine glass. In the dim lighting, Harry couldn't figure out if it was blood or not. "Close your eyes and clear your mind. You must know where your mindscape is if you are to defend it."

Harry did as he was told.

And ten hours later, he was still sitting in his chair, across from Snape, trying not to get pissed off about the 'meditation' not working.

Eventually, his stomach complained loudly enough that Snape actually stopped the lesson with a snide comment about not wanting to hear the grumbling anymore (vampire senses and all that). Harry made a quick dinner for three and nearly stuffed the food into his mouth once he was done.

The days continued in this manner for a week before Harry finally got fed up with it. He'd thought perhaps the meditation thing was all about patience, but he had no bloody intention of sitting on his ass for another single day. He'd had it.

"Snape, it isn't bloody working. Isn't there some other method to finding your mind? I just don't understand how it all works! You just shut your eyes and your mindscape appears to you? Isn't there something you have to _do_, or whatever." He was scowling. Okay, he was pouting, too, but damnit he was sick of this lack of progress!

The vampire, on the other hand, seemed amused and irritated at the same time. Only Snape could pull that all off in one scowl. "There are few methods for Occlumency, Potter. Meditation worked for me, so the master of the art who taught me only vaguely explained a few other options."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Well, let's hear it. Anything's better than this."

"Very well. When some wizards learn wandless magic, the place in which they find their core is closely connected to their mind. Some wizards must find the mind first, and then follow the connection to their magic in order to access it, while other wizards function the other way, as they have a stronger affinity to their magic than their mind." Snape got up from his plush chair to get another glass. "Since you seem to lack much intellect, we'll take the other route."

Harry bit his tongue. Where did he get off insulting Harry? But then, he reasoned to himself, Snape had been positively amicable in comparison to how he had treated the adolescent at school. He could suck it up, considering the vampire didn't _have _to do _anything_ for Harry. Actually, a good question would be why Snape was helping in the first place. Was it because of Remus? Or did he hold a grudge against Dumbledore like Harry himself did?

"So what do I do?" Harry finally asked.

Snape's lips actually twitched slightly upward although it could have been Harry's imagination. "You must learn to find your magic and access it."

"And how do I do that?"

Snape answered with a cruciatus curse. Harry, eyes bugging out, jumped to the side and barely managed to avoid it. Heart beating almost twice as fast as before, he stared dumbly at Snape. A stupefy came next. Having very little room in which to work, Harry fell over his own chair in an attempt to dodge it. It got him in the leg, and he found himself becoming drowsy.

"Fight it, Potter, or a crucio will be what wakes you."

Harry gave his head a shake and awkwardly fell to the floor. He tried to stand, but his energy was fading. Blackness consumed him.

And the next thing he knew was the most intense pain he could ever experience. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like a life-time, and left his nerves frayed and torn. Green eyes stared up at Snape blearily. Why was the vampire doing this? He didn't understand.

"Get up Potter, and defend yourself."

When Harry failed to move in a few seconds, Snape crucioed him again. This time he left the curse on longer. The pain quickly got to the point where Harry was screaming in agony, his entire body on fire, yet Snape still didn't remove it.

In fact, he was timing it with a watch. "A victim can handle the cruciatus curse for a total of three minutes before they go insane. Some break faster. For your sake, Potter, I hope you aren't a quitter." He sneered.

Agony. The most intense pain. The combination of all methods of torture bundled into one. It felt like knives raked his skin, pins stabbed to the bone, and fire melted his flesh. He just wanted it to end. He wanted it all to END!

Snape went inhumanly still when Harry's eyes suddenly flashed open, glowing, pupiless, and emerald green. The creepy eyes focused on him, and yet didn't seem to see him. Snape took a step back and prepared a wandless stupefy in his free hand.

Harry could see pretty lights. And ribbons. Ribbons of pretty red runes flashing around him and connecting to Snape's wand. They danced and danced, to a song unheard, ripping into his body without remorse. Instinctively, he mentally grabbed the runes like he had the blood wards, and squeezed. They shattered instantly, sparks of red magic swirling, dancing through the air before fading from existence.

Harry finally knew peace.

Glowing green eyes closed, relaxing as the pain faded from heavy limbs. He was going to be aching for a couple days.

Snape.

Green eyes snapped open again and Harry slowly and painfully climbed to his feet. He was angry. No, he was pissed. He was fucking FURIOUS! Power burst through his limbs like a potion, giving him strength, washing the pain away. It was like liquid fire, pleasantly burning at his insides, warming him in this cold house.

His eyes burned through Snape like a force of nature. He asked, his voice but a whisper as he tried to contain his anger, "Why the FUCK did you do that to me?" His eyes bore into Snape's own, trying to understand the vampire's reasoning, or lack thereof. "Why did you crucio me!"

Snape smiled. It sent Harry reeling backwards as if it had been a physical blow. "Remember this feeling, Potter. Remember the sensation of your power flowing through your body, enabling you. Search for the source."

Tears of rage and frustration stung Harry's eyes. "Why? _Why?_"

"Hurry, Potter. I'm sure you don't want a repeat experience of the past ten minutes. Find your core, _now_."

It stung. That Snape had cast crucio on him, after being bearable for the past week, it stung his heart like betrayal, yet some small part of his mind reasoned that it had done some good. He had his magic, now. Shoving down his emotions to focus on the task at hand, but still remaining aware of Snape incase the vampire tried to attack again, he felt the fire burning under his skin. He reveled in it. He felt its ebb and flow until he found the pool. The core. The swirling mass of power that screamed to his soul, that felt more _right_ than anything had ever felt before. He felt… complete.

"Now _remember_ this sensation, your core's location. Don't forget it."

Harry looked into Snape's eyes and found no hatred there, no mild dislike or distaste. He found an emotion that he couldn't quite describe, couldn't quite place, because he had never before seen it on the Potions Master's face. He flinched back when the vampire walked towards him, a lip quirked in amusement. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave him a small nod.

Then the moment was gone, and Harry was left standing in the living room as Snape went into the kitchen and to the door. "Rest upstairs. We're done lessons for today. You may do whatever you like until tomorrow." And with that said, he left the house without a backwards glance.

Harry watched him go.

_oOo_

"How's practice been going?" Remus asked amicably as he ate dinner, which was delicious. Where had Harry learned how to cook like this? His taste buds were melting.

The piece of creamy lamb paused inches from Harry's mouth. Slowly, he put his fork back on his plate. The dinner table was suddenly quiet. The young wizard kept his eyes stubbornly on his plate, not wanting to meet Snape's eyes. He hadn't forgiven him for his methods, even if they had been effective.

It was Snape who broke the silence. "He has finally made a modicum of progress. He seems to respond better to action rather than words."

Remus shot Snape a sharp look. The vampire made no reaction. The werewolf instead turned his attention to Harry. "I suppose it would be stupid to ask if you were having a good time. Are you learning a lot, Harry?"

He shrugged. "I managed to find my core. Snape said we'll work on finding my mind tomorrow."

It looked as if Remus was about to say something else, before he stopped himself. "I see. Snape and I have decided that tomorrow, after dinner, you will start learning how to apparate."

Harry nodded.

Awkward silence. It was to be expected, he figured. He had never been very good at small talk, Snape was a dampener on any conversation, and he wasn't used to the company of these two adults yet. They seemed to mean well enough, but did they expect Harry to suddenly trust them with his darkest secrets or something? He frowned slightly as he watched Remus and Snape. They were eating. In fact, they looked rather relaxed together in the same room. How long had they said they'd been together? Ten years? Such a long time. How did they manage to pretend to hate each other for so long? If it had been Harry… it would have killed inside. Pretending to hate something he cherished, pretending to loath the presence of the person he cared about the most… Of course, he could only imagine being in such a situation. He had never actually loved someone before.

It was a depressing thought.

Would he forever be without a companion? Someone who would never judge him, who would support him no matter what he decided to do in his life or in the world? His life thus far had seemed like forever, and the lack of any form of affection from the Dursleys succeeded in leaving him with a low opinion of love. And yet…

Remus laughed at something Snape had sniped about. The vampire had been working himself into quite a tizzy, complaining about the incompatibility of such and such a potion ingredient with some herb during the new moon.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out, Severus." Remus smiled and covered Snape's hand with his own. "You always do."

Snape didn't smile, but the slight twitch of his mouth and the thawing of his eyes conveyed more than a turn of the lips could have. He looked content, and happy, sitting at Remus's side. Harry had never seen the man so peaceful.

Perhaps love had its merits.

_oOo_

"Now that you've found your core, you simply have to find whatever connects your mind to your magic, and follow the connection back to your mindscape. Once you manage that, we can start working on weeding Dumbledore's influence out of you."

Harry nodded, and felt for the ebb of his magic. It was slow to come, but soon he could feel the warmth flowing through his limbs, under his skin, but at the same time not really _there_. It wasn't like his blood, it didn't exist physically, but it was still there. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into that warmth, that light.

Light exploded around him from behind his eyelids as he mentally submerged himself in the river of light. Not so much seeing as feeling, _knowing_, what path to take to find the pool. The source of his magic. The _core_.

It felt like home, Harry absently noticed as he floated in swirling current. The magic wrapped around him made him feel a sense of belonging, of purpose. It enabled him. Allowed him to do whatever he wanted. And right now, he wanted to find his mind.

As if in response to his need, his magic surged around him and propelled him out of the core and into a dark space, a nothingness that existed in between the arteries and veins of magic. He could see the entire web from where he floated, where it formed his arms, legs. He looked up, or at least what seemed like up, and followed the magic to where his head would be. What he found there was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. It was almost as bright with magic as his core, and occasionally he could make out rings of runes circling it, flowing through it… He propelled himself forward, into that mass of energy, and once he broke its surface, he found himself in a very strange place indeed. Was this his mindscape? No, that couldn't be right. It wasn't the graveyard. This was an infinite web of light.

Snape had said something about them being different. His mind and his mindscape. Was this his mind? What was a mindscape then? Not understanding what to do next, he let himself come back to his body. It was an uncomfortable landing at first, experiencing sensation and space again, but he adjusted quickly.

Snape was watching him carefully.

"I found my mind, but I don't know what to do from there."

The vampire frowned. "You found the graveyard?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I found my mind, not my mindscape. It was like a huge web of light. I didn't know how to get to my mindscape from there."

Two dark eyebrows rose. "A web of light?"

Harry sat down in a nearby chair, inexplicably tired. A glance out the window showed him that it was already well into the evening. His eyes widened. Had he been in his magic for that long? His grumbling stomach answered that question. He brought his attention back to their conversation. "Yeah. I think it was magic. I mean, I followed my magic, and then I was _outside_ of it, and I saw where the magic flowed to my head… When I went into it, I saw the web."

Snape looked thoughtful. "In truth, I have never experienced what you have. Meditation took me straight to my mindscape, and my teacher only gave me basic theory on the only other method he knew." He frowned. "Perhaps if I take you to your mindscape via legilimency, you will be able to make the connection. Look at me."

Harry tore his eyes away from the window to look into black depths. A whisper later, and the world faded to black around him.

"Potter. Wake up."

Harry grumbled and rolled over, expecting to find warm blankets and a pillow, but instead his mind scraped across dirt and rocks. Wincing, he opened his eyes and found himself once again in the graveyard. Oh yeah, Snape had cast legilimens on him.

"Try to find the web of light, Potter," Snape said from where he was leaning against a headstone, absently plucking brambles off his black clothes. Whenever one tried to latch on to him, he wilted it as if it were simply a minor nuisance. And whenever one tried to latch onto Harry, he did the same. Harry frowned in confusion, before remembering what Snape had done when he'd seen Dumbledore after destroying the blood wards. He had repressed the manipulations on his mind, the bramble things. Harry didn't quite understand it all yet, but he knew he would soon, once he and Snape started repairing the damage to his mind. Harry still didn't comprehend exactly what that entailed.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he thought back to the web. Nothing happened. Er… 'Try something else,' he coached himself. He felt around for his magic, and it responded to his call. The graveyard around him began to flicker, like an illusion that was losing its power. Every time it faded, Harry could see lines, and those lines connected to become a gigantic web. It almost seemed like they had _created_ the mindscape. That they had forged the wiring, and then an illusion of coloured cloth had conformed to the wiring to create tombstones, gray skies, the blackened and dead trees… It was a projection! His mindscape was like a projection of his mind! It was the way his mind presented itself to him in physical form so that it made more sense. After all, the first time he had seen the elaborate web, he had been confounded. He hadn't known left from right, but as a graveyard where physics and laws remained, he could make sense of it.

He stopped feeling for the web, the magic, and the illusion strengthened and gained back its pigment. He grinned. "Alright. I think I got this."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I won't ask how, because I wouldn't understand anyway." The vampire pushed off the tombstone and started walking farther into the graveyard. Harry followed, and Snape explained his plan along the way to wherever it was they were going. "I'm going to show you how to contain the brambles so they don't influence you, but it will be up to you to destroy the remnants of Dumbledore's compulsions. The old man did a very thorough job. It will be like trying to destroy a field of Fireweed. No matter how many times you burn it, it will always grow back from its root system."

When Harry nodded his comprehension, Snape pried a bramble off the nearest tombstone. "The difficulty with destroying these brambles is that they are very much like a weed. They grow back often more durable and in larger numbers than before you destroyed them. When you eradicate them, you have to make sure we take out the root system, not the branches." He demonstrated this by following the bramble down to its root and tugging it a few inches out of the ground. The root glowed even brighter than the bramble. "For now, I want you to track the root system, try to find the core, or the seed. I cannot help you with that, as you are the one with power over your mind and I am not. I will observe and make sure nothing… untoward occurs."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Untoward?"

Snape smirked. "Making sure you don't screw up."

"Ah."

Harry relaxed and closed his eyes. Track the root system, huh? He opened them again and the world was written in code, kind of like a movie he'd seen Dudley watch one time. What was it… Matrix? Not that it really mattered. He visually sifted through the runes of the graveyard illusion and searched through the webs for the runes that made up the brambles. It was kind of cool, actually, he could zoom in and out and see past things as if he had X-ray vision. Totally wicked.

He spent what felt like forever just learning to navigate the root system, let along actually finding the core, or 'source' of it. When Snape finally told him it was time to stop, it was well into the evening. And if he weren't so damn hungry, it would have been too late for supper.

Remus was already home, reading a newspaper at the kitchen table, sipping at some tea. "So, how did your day go?"

Harry sighed explosively as he sat down in one of the chairs. He was too tired to make anything, but his stomach was too angry at him to ignore. Absently, he waved his hand at the counter, and an apple came flying at him. He managed to catch it before it smacked him in the face. He blinked, looked at the counter, and then at the apple, and then at the counter, and then at his hand. Magic. Huh. He was reeeally tired. Either that, or all that time in his magic had really connected him to it. He figured it was a bit of both. It was just so natural to do…

"I didn't know you were teaching him wandless magic, Severus," Remus said pleasantly, as if it weren't all that surprising. From what Harry remembered from his Hogwarts education, wandless magic was supposed to be really hard, and only the most powerful of wizards could do it.

"I am not."

The werewolf looked up from his paper. He stared at the two of us for a moment before going back to it.

"What is so interesting in _this_ Daily Prophet, Remus?" Severus asked, walking over to glance over the werewolf's shoulder. His hand rested, relaxed, on the back of Remus's neck. And it was playing absent-mindedly with his hair. Harry looked away.

"The hunt for Harry Potter is on. It seems that finding Harry is more important to Dumbledore than the knowledge that he is missing. Voldemort will know now, as well. Probably not the wisest move, but they wouldn't have been able to keep it secret come September."

As the two continued to muse over the paper, Harry finished off his apple so he would have enough energy to actually make himself something to eat. From the dirty plate a foot away from Remus, he figured the werewolf had already eaten, so he made just enough for himself.

He didn't really know what to think about the Harry Hunt. He was just glad that he was safe from Dumbledore for the time being. He was safe at Spinner's End. He was also stuck here until he mastered Occlumency. But aside from the crucio incident, he didn't really mind staying here. Hell, a dungeon cell would have been better than the Dursley's.

_oOo_

"Apparating is actually a rather simple concept. You imagine yourself in another location, and your magic takes you there. Of course, it's easier said than done. The fact that you already have a good grasp on wandless magic helps."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He wouldn't call it a good grasp on _wandless magic_, but he could _access_ his magic. And seemingly make it follow his wishes. Seemingly. He hadn't actually told it, or asked it, to do anything the day he summoned that apple. It had just done it for him. It was like an extension of himself, really.

"So, I just shut my eyes and wish myself to be somewhere else?"

Remus frowned for a moment at the logic. "Wish?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

The werewolf looked thoughtful, not immediately dismissing the idea. "Our magic often responds to our wants or needs. Did you wish for things when you were a child?"

"Well, there was this one time I was running away from Dudley when he and his friends were Harry Hunting, and I made a wrong turn into a dead end. I wished I was anywhere but there, and the next thing I knew I was on the top of a nearby building."

Remus's eyes widened. "You apparated at that young an age? Usually children just wish for their broken toys to be fixed, and that's the extent of their accidental magic."

Harry shrugged. "Weird things always happened around me. A teacher I hated in elementary school once had their hair turned blue, and when Dudley shoved me away from looking at this snake in the zoo, the glass to the cage disappeared, and this one time my aunt tried to cut my hair and totally destroyed it, it was grown back the next day."

Remus didn't know what to think. "Er… well, try 'wishing' yourself to be in your room."

Harry blinked, shrugged, closed his eyes, and disappeared with a pop.

Remus was left gaping in the kitchen.

And that was the end of Harry's apparation lessons.

_oOo_

Harry spent the next week working with Snape and his brambles. The progress was slow and painful, mapping out the root system, as they had to make sure they didn't miss a single branch, or it'd grow back twice as tenacious. It didn't help that he was still _not_ a natural at Occlumency. Sure, he could control his mind and stuff, but his method was so far from Snape's the vampire didn't even know where to start. Harry was basically on his own. It wouldn't be until after they got rid of Dumbledore's brambles that they found out if Harry could even defend his mind from outside attack with his knew knowledge and experience.

At the end of the week, Harry finally found the seed, or the source. It took a full day for Harry to fry it, and then take out the rest of the brambles before they grew minds of their own. Snape and he were both pretty optimistic that they had gotten it all. It had been a rather simple extermination, over all, and now Harry knew corners of his mind's framework that he hadn't even known existed before.

"Don't forget, Potter, that this is Dumbledore we're talking about. He may have devised a contingency plan. Just because we outsmarted one of his tricks does not mean that this is the end of them."

Harry nodded, but he still couldn't help but revel in the feeling of _cleanliness_. It's like finding out you have a rat infestation in your house, and the exterminator just came to deal with it. Sure, you can smell the rat poison, and there are a few chips in the paint job here and there, but the rats are gone. For the most part. There's always the possibility of finding a dead carcass somewhere.

"If you ever experience any disorientation of any kind concerning Dumbledore, Voldemort, or the war, come to me immediately. It will be easier for me to detect the brambles, as I won't be under their influence, understood? And I will be able to suppress them again until we take care of the infestation."

Harry smiled at Snape as he collapsed into one of the armchairs in the living room. "Thank you, Snape."

The vampire looked almost taken aback. After an awkward pause, he muttered, "You're welcome," before locking himself up in his office.

_oOo_

Harry was allowed a small reprieve as his mind settled after the extermination, and Snape examined him for any signs of regression. In that time, the vampire let him into his study and actually let him read some of the books there. Although surprised, Harry was glad for the distraction, as he didn't have much else to do in Spinner's End. Actually, he had nothing else to do, except brood. His school books were gone, after all. Perhaps he could ask Remus to go shopping for him at Flourish and Blotts…

But the books Snape had were fascinating. Sure, there were a lot on potions, and he really didn't understand much of that, but he had a plethora of Defense Against the Dark Arts books, as well as some more _shady_ volumes. So he spent as much time as he could, reading up on spells, and practicing his wandless magic in his room – Snape would kill him if he broke anything in the house.

The evenings, however, were the best part of his day.

After cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, Harry excused himself and went up to his room for the rest of the night. Once he seated himself on his bed, he cast a tempus charm, noted the time, and then closed his eyes and let himself fall into his magic. He counted sixty seconds and returned to the real world. A tempus charm revealed that five minutes had actually passed. At least now he knew the approximate time difference. He didn't want to stay in that state for too long, because he had to sleep in about five hours.

So he let himself fall into his magic again, and just relaxed. Floated. Zenned out. He always felt mentally rested after he soaked himself in his magic for a while. It was like a drug. You didn't want to leave once you got there, but if you stayed for too long the real world came knocking, whether by a grumbling stomach or another person.

He let his magic carry him to his core, and from there he shot up through the empty space to reach the complex magical web, or matrix, that was his mind. He turned around just before entering it to see the magic flowing through his body. It was beautiful, really. It danced through his limbs and then returned to his core, like a solar prominence shooting off the surface of the sun, only to get pulled back into it.

He floated into his mind, careful not to disrupt the webbing. He could see where the brambles used to be, like scars on his mind. Hopefully they would fade with time.

Reluctantly, he returned to the real world. He cast a tempus. It was already 9pm. With a sigh, he lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He held up his hand and summoned not a lumos specifically, but a ball of light. He floated it up to the ceiling of the room and mentally _stuck_ it there. It stayed obediently. With a smile, he created another one, this time red. The first one wavered, and Harry strengthened his connection to it. It steadied, but the red one had gone out. Frowning curiously, he tried again, this time enforcing the first one while forming the red one. It was hard, splitting his concentration like that, but eventually he had the two glowing strong and floating on his ceiling. He closed his eyes and felt the tiny threads of magic that connected him to them. He thought about that time he had destroyed the blood wards on the Dursley house. Phantom pain shot through his body and his eyes, and then his eyes began to _sting_. Startled, he opened them and saw a gigantic dome. Again. Except this one was a deep purple, and in the middle of it floated two balls of light, one red, and one white. He gaped. Focusing his eyes, he found multiple chains of runes floating around the dome. Actually, come to think of it, it was a lot like how he saw his mind, before it projected his mindscape. Runes, webs, domes of light… it was all magic?

It made sense now. Well, not _why_ he could see like this, but what he saw. It was all magic, and spells. The runes were like… the math that made the spells! Huh.

He closed his eyes again and let whatever it was that made him see this way _release_, and the lights faded with it.

He grinned as he let his magic lights flicker out. He could destroy spells with this weird ability, as proven by the dome incident and Snape's cruciatus. But what if he could _make_ stuff with it?

That'd be kinda cool.

_oOo_

"Legilimens."

Harry was somewhat prepared for the intrusion, but he didn't really know what to do to _prevent_ it. And neither did Snape. Their mind methods were so different, all the vampire could do was offer suggestions like 'Imagine a barrier around your mind'. Very _not_ helpful.

It felt like batting at a bee. He could feel Snape rifling through his mind. Every time he brushed a web, Harry could feel it, but he didn't know how to get rid of him. He'd tried swatting him away, but Snape had dodged expertly. 'Bloody bugger… Oh hell that was a bad pun. With the bees and the… other… Okay, shut up internal voice.' Harry closed his eyes to blot out the stupid visions and memories pelting his retinas and almost growled when it didn't work. Of course, they weren't light images, they were memories. With a frustrated grunt, he collapsed into his magic in order to get a reprieve.

He came back to himself to the sight of a very concerned Snape shaking him by the shoulders.

"What?!" he snapped. He didn't like being pulled out of his happy place.

"Don't scare me like that, Potter!"

Harry looked at him funny. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mind vanished, you fool! Where did you go? I thought your mind had been destroyed under the pressure!"

Harry paused, and just stared at Snape. There was worry in those black pits. Actual _concern_ for Harry's well-being. He felt a little guilty, but not much. "I retreated."

Snape glared at him. "Retreated _where_, Potter?"

The 'Potter' came like a physical blow. Harry glared back. "To my magic! The only bloody place I can seem to get any peace in this bloody house!"

Snape was silent for a moment, the anger on his face morphing into interest. "You retreated into your magic? What are you insinuating, exactly?"

Harry frowned and ran a hand roughly through his hair. "When you were trying to teach me how to access my magic. I found it, felt the flow, and then 'fell' into it. It was like… _floating_ in the well of magic. It was by floating there that I found my mind."

Snape looked as if the concept was completely foreign to him, and it probably was. The vampire functioned daily on a set of rules that, when interrupted or proven wrong, made him rather… touchy. He liked to know everything, and when he didn't, it either irked him or fascinated him. He leaned away from Harry, and seemed to contemplate his next words. Luckily, he seemed more fascinated with Harry than irked.

After a time, he finally spoke. "I have come to the conclusion that this is something you will have to use wisely. When you retreat into your magic to avoid mental attack, it puts your body at risk, as you are almost completely unaware of the real world. I would only use this tactic if you had no other option." He paused. "When you suddenly disappeared like that, your mind was suddenly _gone_. Well, it was there, it was where it was supposed to be, but it was like it wasn't real anymore, like it had become a shadow. There was no substance to it." His eyes were serious. "I could have searched for your mind for hours and not find it, Potter, but I could just have easily cast Avada Kedavra. Be wary of this ability."

Harry nodded, and looked at the floor. He was back to square one. Again. He wanted to scream, to voice his frustration in some way, but Snape would just tell him to shut up. Instead, he gritted his teeth and steadied himself for another attack. Hopefully, he would figure out some way of protecting himself. If not, he'd be stuck in this house for the rest of his life.

That wasn't a very pleasant thought.

_-Toki Mirage-_

Sorry again for the long wait, people. I know half of you hate me, and the other half reluctantly like me. T-T Once I get past the next chapter, though, the chapters will be quicker until I'm up to date with where I left off around chapter 12.

Thanks for waiting!


	4. Chapter Four: Submerged

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Four:

_oOo_

"Come on, Potter! There must be something you can do besides stand there! _Think_!"

Harry glared. "I don't know what to do! You've been throwing that bloody spell at me for the past two weeks! Nothing's changed!"

Snape glared right back. "Don't yell at me because of your own _incompetence_."

Harry bit his tongue to the point it bled. Snape was just so… so… infuriating! 'I can yell at you, but you can't yell at me, and I can get frustrated with you, but you have to sit back and take my ridicule!'

Harry gripped at his hair, just about ready to rip it out. He _hated_ Occlumency. He _loathed_ it. Why couldn't it come as easily to him as wandless magic had? If it had, he wouldn't be in this same situation, the situation he was always in! Harry sucks; Snape yells.

He closed his eyes and just tried to relax. The breath he took in was far shakier than he would have liked. He felt his magic's flow, and let it lull him into a more relaxed state.

"Explain your concept to me again. Use different words, or _something_. Just explain it in a different way. You're not that great at explaining things, Snape! Is that why you just leave your students alone to figure it out instead of teaching them how potions work?" When Snape looked ready to bite his head off, he bit back a hasty apology. It wasn't like he was wrong.

Snape poured himself another full glass of wine (or it could be blood) into his goblet. He took a swig and fell rather gracefully into his armchair. Pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache, he glared up at Harry. He gave his words a moment of thought.

"Our minds can be whatever we imagine them to be. My mind is like Hogwarts. It is incredibly large and complex, and it is easy to get lost in the multiple corridors, changing hallways, and moving rooms. Like Hogwarts, my mind has wards. I perceive them like a shield, or a wall, that surrounds my mind and protects it from attacks. If it is _Voldemort_ reading my mind, as he does with all of his servants, then I do not aim to defend, I aim to _hide_. I hide memories that I do not wish for him to witness in rooms that cannot be found, or I create false memories so that Voldemort sees what he wants to see. Our minds are not unlike… a chess board. We have the advantage of home ground, but if you are against an enemy who has stronger knights or bishops than you, or has a mind more attune to strategy than yours, that advantage is lost."

Green eyes squinted at him in thought. "So you're saying… make my mind like an impenetrable fortress."

Snape nodded. "Except that it does not need to be a castle to be a fortress." Harry frowned. "Do you understand?"

Lips quirked in a small grin. "I think, maybe I do."

"Good." Snape stood from his chair and floated his goblet onto a side table. "Then let us continue."

"No."

The vampire ceased his movement. His eyebrow twitched. "And what exactly do you mean by that, Potter?"

Harry just smiled and headed upstairs to his room. "I'm gonna go build me a fortress."

_oOo_

It wasn't nearly as easy as it sounded, to be completely honest. How does one build a fortress in one's own mind? Wave a wand and say "Abra Cadabra"? Okay, that was a bad joke.

Lying back on his bed, he took a deep breath and let himself plummet into his magic. He zipped through the now-familiar pathway to his mind and slipped into the complicated webbing. He imagined his mindscape and smiled when the graveyard fleshed out before his eyes instead of the confusing maze of lines. He blinked. What a brilliant idea! Closing his eyes, he imagined the graveyard turning into a gigantic maze, above and below ground, taking advantage of the tombs and creating an underground labyrinth of the dead; booby traps and everything.

He opened his eyes and frowned. It didn't look any different. His eyebrow twitched.

Okay, perhaps imagining doesn't work… What happened to all that 'power of the mind' crap? He scowled and threw a reducto curse at the nearest headstone. It blew up spectacularly, and he collapsed to the ground in pain. Cursing, he gripped his head and trembled on the cold and dirty ground. That hurt more than when Snape attacked him. He forced the illusion of the graveyard to fall away and reveal the structure, the webbing from which it was composed, and gaped at the damage. The web was made up of several intricate lines, and often those lines came together and formed a knot.

He'd blown one of those things up. Holy shit. Quickly funneling magic to the damaged webbing, he aimed to heal what felt like a hole in his mind. The magic pulsed and glowed, growing the ends of the web and attaching them together again. He examined the knot and the ones around it. From what he could tell, memories were stored in each one, and whatever had been in that one was lost forever. Hopefully it wasn't anything too important.

Was that why it was so easy for Snape to look at his memories? They were quite obviously in the open, and all he had to do was cruise from one to the next to get a good show. Holy… If that was true, then he needed to find a way to hide his whole mind web.

Floating outside the web of his mind, he surveyed the view and wondered how he was going to go about hiding this gigantic thing in a maze. 'Hmm… size is relative in the non-physical world, isn't it?' He willed his mind to shrink to the size of small rock.

It was slow going, the web just didn't want to obey him, but eventually he retracted the plentiful web until it was the size of a small boulder. Then, with a shred of deviousness, he sunk the thing into his core. Snape said that when he fell into his magic, it was like his mind disappeared. So they'd never be able to read his memories.

With a grin, he returned to the real world.

_oOo_

Remus came home with a bright smile and a bag of food. Harry quickly forgot Snape existed and snatched the bag, taking it into the kitchen to make supper. There was nothing in the house but bread and peanut butter, so he was still hungry from his rather unsatisfying lunch. And it was a good excuse to escape the vampire's wrath.

Remus smiled and started to prepare a pot of coffee. "So, how did training go today?" he asked in an attempt to crack the tension in the room.

Snape grudgingly sat down at the table. "Potter has been getting closer."

Harry turned around and glared. "Close? You haven't even tried to read my mind today! I told you I figured out how to keep you out, but you were completely focused on your _potions_ experiment."

Snape twitched. "Very well. Let's test your shields now, shall we?" Without further ado, he muttered the spell. Harry stared into the dark eyes and blinked when nothing happened. Two black eyebrows furrowed. "There is nothing there. The last time that occurred, you were comatose."

Harry grinned. "See? It works."

Snape's lip twitched. "Congratulations Potter. You can go outside now."

Harry turned back to the dinner he was preparing. "Does this mean we can start looking for a school for me to go to next fall?"

"I already have you enrolled."

Harry nearly cut his finger off when his knife slipped. He turned around and barely held himself back from gaping at the smug look on Snape's face. "S-since when?"

"Since the day you walked out on our Occlumency lesson with that smug little grin on your face. I knew it wouldn't be long before you figured something out." Snape smirked.

Harry stared. "Which school?"

Snape sipped on a glass of wine that Harry just realized had been sitting on the table. He didn't know when the vampire had went and got it, but he supposed it didn't really matter. It was just a way that Snape could prolong the agony and suspense by sipping away at it. Argh!

"The school is called Shikaan. I left Hogwarts to go there for my sixth year, but found it not to my liking, so I returned for my seventh."

Harry leaned back against the counter. "So why do you think I'll like it?"

Snape examined him with his eyes, and Harry couldn't say he liked how Snape just seemed to _know_. "You will like it there. It will not be easy, but you have the power, and the will, to carve yourself a niche at that school. I had neither."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "No power? No will? You seem to have plenty to me."

Snape shook his head. "You don't understand. This school is a multi-racial institution. Vampires and werewolves make up the majority, and humans are among the minority. It was a lot different for me as a vampire there, because I was never a natural Occlumens, and the vampire society is all about power in the hierarchy, and being stuck at the bottom is something you never want." Snape stared down into his wine, refusing to meet Harry's eyes. "Among humans you may think my Occlumency is strong, and my power great, but among vampires… I would have never been able to get past first year."

A thoughtful silence ensued. Harry balked at the thought that Snape wasn't strong enough. The vampire was in Voldemort's inner circle. His knowledge of potions was as legendary as his hatred of children. He could cast all of the Unforgivables, and knew a slew of other dark spells that Harry would probably never learn. He wasn't _powerful_ enough? "What kind of power are we talking about?"

Snape looked up at the question, and his eyes widened imperceptibly at the cunning look he had never seen on Harry's face before, but had suspected the boy was capable of. He suppressed a relieved sigh. The Potter that he had known at Hogwarts would never have survived a day at Shikaan, but the Harry that he had gotten to know the past couple months… He would survive. In fact, Snape was certain he would _thrive_. His lips turned upwards the slightest bit, before narrowing sternly. "There are many kinds of power. At Shikaan, the ones that matter most are the power you hold over others and over yourself: your power of influence, your mental abilities, and your magical power. My strengths do not fall in any of these categories."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And you think _I_ have these?"

"In spades." When Harry looked taken aback, Snape smirked. "You have been molded into becoming a leader since you were eleven, Potter. And although at first you showed no aptitude for it, you have adapted, as proven by your Defense Association last year. You have never been strong at the mental arts, but in the past month you have worked around your inability to defend your mind and instead hid it. And finally, your magic. You learned how to cast a corporeal Patronus when you were thirteen, something most adults never learn, and yet you struggled to figure out a simple Accio charm two years later. And I know no one has ever explained why this is to you. You have a strong aptitude for near impossible spells because of the power requirements for them, and the reason it takes you so long to learn the simple spells is because you put _too much_ magic into them."

Harry stared. Had Snape just bestowed upon him the biggest compliment ever? Mental system crash. Reboot. Huh? "Huh." He really didn't know what to say to all of that.

Remus smiled at the gob smacked looked on Harry's face, and the hidden pride in Snape's. The two were really starting to get along.

"It will be difficult for you at Shikaan, but I am in full confidence that you will adapt. Now that you have a method of Occlumency learned, we can begin shopping for your supplies."

Harry snapped out of his stupor. "Wait. Shopping already? Isn't it too late to start school this year?"

Snape shook his head. "I have already been in contact with the Headmistress. She will be ready to accept you whenever."

"But how?"

Snape gave him a weird look. "She's the Headmistress." He said it like it explained everything.

Harry frowned. Maybe it did?

_oOo_

"First things first, you need a disguise. You can't go to Diagon Alley looking like Harry Potter or people might start harassing you for autographs," Remus joked, a bright smile on his rather haggard-looking face. Harry didn't laugh. "You'll need a new identity, as well. Have you given much thought to what you want to change your name to?"

Harry blinked. Oh. You know, he hadn't even considered that. 'Duh. Harry Potter is a little obvious,' he scolded himself. Now, he needed a name… a name… James? Nah, too obvious. No family connections…

"Cyrus Obsidian."

Both Remus and Harry turned to Snape in surprise. "You've thought of this?"

Snape looked offended. "Of course. He can't very well go around calling himself Harry Potter. The Order would kidnap him in an instant, or worse, the Death Eaters would kill him."

"Why Cyrus Obsidian?" Harry asked, curious.

"My great grandfather, Cyrus Snape, was the only neutral wizard in the Snape family in the past three centuries. He studied both Dark Arts, and Light Arts, and was partial to neither. And Obsidian is… in respect to the mutt." And with that said, Snape turned around and left the room.

Remus smiled. "How thoughtful."

Harry blinked and stared after the vampire. "Yeah…"

"Do you like it, Harry?"

Harry watched Snape pause in the doorway to his office. He smiled. "Yeah." The door closed, and Harry grinned. "Cyrus Obsidian. I could get used to the sound of that."

"Now that you have a new name, you need a new look. I've always wondered what you'd look like with blond hair."

Cyrus stared at Remus in horror. "No… anything but Malfoy hair."

The werewolf laughed. "Not platinum blond, but dirty blond. It's more natural-looking anyway."

Cyrus pouted. "Why the hair?"

"It's either that or the eyes. Would you rather keep your black hair, or your mother's eyes?" Remus smiled gently at the look on Cyrus's face. "See? Blond it is. We also have to move your scar into your hairline. That's going to be a tricky bit of magic. Severus will be doing that after I change your hair. After that, we're going shopping."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Shopping? For my school supplies?"

"No, Severus is going to take you to get those once you pick your courses."

"What? Why?"

"Because we don't want you going into Gemini Square alone until you can defend yourself. We're going to Diagon Alley to get clothes for you, a new wand, books that you want to study from, a hair cut, earrings, tattoos, whatever you want. We need to get rid of your glasses, too. He'll probably take you to an eye healer." Remus smiled. "I know you've never had the chance to go shopping for the sake of shopping, so that's what we're going to do today. There, all done."

Cyrus blinked. "Huh?"

Remus smiled innocently. "Your hair. You're now a natural blond."

Cyrus's hands jumped to his hair and pulled a couple strands out. Blond. Very blond. He wanted to cry.

"Maybe we should give you a tan, too."

"What?!"

"It's all to make you less recognizable, Har- Cyrus. We're going to teach you these spells before you go to school, too."

"How come we never learned these at Hogwarts?"

Remus grinned mischievously. "Because the Ministry considers them Dark, even though there's nothing Dark about them. They just don't want people making it impossible for the Ministry to identify them, so they've been labeled to be 'evil'. Most disguises are just illusions to change looks, but what we're doing is actually changing your physical body to something else. And… there. Now you're tan."

Cyrus held his hands up and stared at them. They looked like someone else's. But he supposed that was the point. He just wasn't used to it yet.

"Severus!"

Cyrus snapped out of his thoughts. Next was the scar. "Is this going to hurt?"

Remus smiled. "Of course not."

Of course, Cyrus should have realized that since Remus wasn't actually casting the spell, he had no idea. But he didn't realize. So when Snape finally stopped his archaic chanting and put his wand to Cyrus's forehead, he was completely unprepared for the agony that ripped through his forehead for what felt like hours before finally stopping. Remus caught him before he hit the ground.

"Bastard…" Cyrus grumbled, almost passing out from all the endorphins and adrenaline running through his system.

Snape chuckled. "It's called dark magic for a reason, Po- Obsidian. It was worth it, wasn't it?" He held up a mirror, and Cyrus couldn't help but stare at his new face. He was completely unrecognizable, except for the eyes. The eyes of Harry Potter stared back at him, the new Cyrus Obsidian. He grinned.

"Time to go shopping."

_oOo_

The first stop was, of course, Gringotts. You needed money to spend money. The goblin that he went to didn't believe he was Harry Potter, because of the physical changes and the glasses he had taken off before entering Diagon Alley, so he had to provide a blood sample to prove he was of the Potter bloodline. Remus's silencing spell kept their dealings secret. He didn't know what happened to his key, but it probably got melted in the fire that burned all of his other belongings.

"Out of curiosity, can someone other than a Potter get into my vault if they have my key?" Cyrus asked the goblin, trying to be polite.

The goblin didn't take the question very well. "Goblins keep wizards' gold safe, Mr. Potter," it growled, a scowl flashing long teeth and devious eyes. "It was stated specifically in the will of Mr. and Mrs. Potter that only their child had access to their vaults and upon his death or the creation of his own will it was to be divided according to their wishes."

Cyrus did a double take. "Wait. What? Vaults? As in plural? As in having more than one?"

He couldn't see very well, but a blind man couldn't have missed the snide look the goblin sent him. "The caretaker of the key, one Albus Dumbledore was obligated to inform you of your family vaults, Mr. Potter. The trust was set aside for you until you reached majority, upon which time you will have full access."

"Full access… Does that mean I have partial access now?"

The goblin grinned approvingly, flashing vicious teeth. "Yes. The gold is to remain in the vaults until your majority, but you are authorized to remove whatever other items as you please."

Cyrus grinned back at Remus. "What do you think is in there?"

Remus smiled. "Knowing your parents, there's furniture, portraits, books, weapons, jewels, and more books."

"Perfect." He turned back to the goblin. "I'd like to be taken to all of my vaults today, the trust first."

"Of course, Mr. Potter." With a snap of the wrist, the goblin dismantled Remus's silencing ward like it was child's play. "Goblebrook!"

A stocky little goblin appeared out of nowhere, a scowl on his face and a limp to his steps. The goblin at the counter handed him a newly made key. "All vaults, trust first."

Goblebrook nodded and limped off, nary a look behind him. Cyrus and Remus followed the slow pace without comment.

_oOo_

At his trust vault, Cyrus put his glasses back on and filled three never-ending pouches, supplied by the goblins, with each of the coins. The trip to the family vaults, however, was much longer, much deeper, and god forbid the cart moved even faster. Was that a dragon?

If it weren't for all the flying he'd done playing Quidditch, he might have puked like Remus. Luckily he was used to a couple Gs. It was a close call though.

"There are three family vaults. One has gold, one has furniture, jewels, and portraits, and the other has books. Which would you like to visit first?" the little goblin asked, his nasal voice grating on even the most resistant eardrums.

"Furniture." Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" he asked defensively. "I'm hoping there's a trunk to put all my stuff in."

"Ah."

It turned out there was a trunk. Or twenty. Most of them were already full. One of the smaller ones was actually full of filing folders concerning properties that the Potter families owned. He had his own cabin on the coast of the Caribbean! How cool was that?

The one he ended up picking was old. Very old. And the only unadorned trunk in the room. It would have been sketchy to go around carrying a traditional Potter trunk with family shield and gold embossment. It was completely black, except for steel hinges and a flat panel on the front. Curiously, he touched the panel, wondering how it opened. As soon as his finger touched it, his entire hand was yanked down to lay flat on the surface. He felt a sharp prick, and the trunk opened. He yanked his hand back and kicked the lid open in revenge. Feeling foolish, he peered over the edge and gaped at the gigantic hole in the ground. Wow. How deep did the thing go?

Holding his hand over the hole, he called up a glowing ball of light and sent it slowly floating down. The light revealed a ladder, and a drop of about ten feet. "Hey Remus," he called, getting the werewolf's attention from where he was looking at portraits and the other odds and ends of the room. "I'm going to check out the trunk, kay?" He didn't wait for a response before climbing over the edge and down the ladder.

The light was waiting for him at the bottom, but it wasn't strong enough to light more than a few feet in front of him. Feeding it a little magic, it grew until lit the room wall to wall. It was a huge… empty space. Stone floor, stone walls… stone nothingness. He figured he could probably put bookcases and other stuff in here. Did trunks have limited supplies of air? Or did he just need to leave the lid open? What happened if someone closed the lid on him in here?

"Hey Remus!"

"Cyrus? Are you okay down there?"

"Close the lid!"

"Are you sure that's safe?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

Reluctantly, Remus pulled the lid shut. It closed and then banged back open again, nearly smacking the werewolf in the face. "Interesting," he muttered to himself. He closed it again and used his werewolf strength to hold it shut. It stayed closed for less than a second before snapping open again and throwing him a few feet away. As Remus dusted his sore bottom, he leaned over the side and called, "I think it's safe."

Cyrus grinned mischievously up at him. "I think so too. Thanks." He climbed out and gently shut the lid. It stayed closed. "I think it likes me," he said cheekily. Remus just glared.

"Does it have a shrinking feature?"

"Huh?"

"Most trunks with special features, like huge underground rooms, are also given a shrinking feature."

Cyrus stared curiously at the trunk. He walked a full circle around it and didn't see any obvious buttons labeled 'shrink'. Cautiously, he put his hand on the panel. Nothing happened. "Open." It opened. Huh. He closed it. Put his hand on it. "Shrink." It shrank. "An idiot-proof trunk. I think I like it."

Remus just laughed.

_oOo_

After spending close to three hours piling his trunk full of the books from the other vault, with the help of Remus, who had to transfigure quite a few bookshelves, they finally escaped to the surface again. The first stop they made was the eye healers. The man didn't recognize him without his scar and glasses, and after paying 20 galleons they went on to Ollivander's.

Cyrus had to admit he didn't miss the weight on his nose.

"Good evening, gentleman," the old man spooked them, appearing out of nowhere.

Remus smiled. "Hello again, Ollivander."

"Hello Remus. Eleven inches, pine, and hair of a unicorn. Quite stiff handling. How _is_ the handling?"

"Good as ever, sir. This here is Cyrus Obsidian. His last wand was…" Remus frowned. "What did they do your wand? He never did tell me."

Cyrus looked away. Images of Hedwig and the pile of ash flickered through his head. "They burned it."

"Oh my." Ollivander looked absolutely beside himself. With sorrow or anger Cyrus wasn't sure he wanted to know. "What was the core? Depending on its qualities, it could have survived intact."

Green eyes widened. It couldn't be… "Phoenix tail feather."

"A phoenix is only susceptible to its own flame. You should have found the feather in the ash of the wood."

"But…" Blood flashed across his vision. "There was so much ash… I didn't look…" He looked to Remus. "Do you think… _he_ found the feather? And kept it?"

Remus wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know. He never said anything about ash. What ash?"

"They… He… burned all of my school supplies and killed my owl."

Tawny eyes widened and met his own. "The old coot never mentioned _that_. I thought you'd kept your wand and Hedwig, and everything else had been put in a safe place."

Ollivander interrupted the awkward silence that really needed interrupting. "If you brought me the feather, I could fashion a new wand for you quite easily enough. In the meantime, did you want a replacement?"

Cyrus was furious with himself. Why didn't he think to check? Now Dumbledore had the bloody thing and he would never give it back unless Harry came crawling back to him. Argh! He'd have to steal it from the old goat. How was he going to find where it was hidden?

"Cyrus?" Remus placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We'll get it back. No matter how long it takes. But you need a wand."

The blonde suppressed frustrated tears and nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Ollivander took this as his cue and started pulling down boxes. Cyrus had a bad feeling that this was going to go the same way it did last time, except this time without the lucky break of a phoenix feather at the end. He picked up the first with his right hand, and it felt wrong. Really wrong. The wand nearly exploded in his hand, it jumped out so fast.

"Oh dear." The three of them stared at the hole in the ceiling that had been a wand. "Very well. No standard wands for you. And use your left hand."

Cyrus blinked. "What?"

Ollivander snatched back the next wand before he could grab it. "Left hand. Your right hand is highly attuned to a specific wand. It may be easier to find something compatible with the left."

"Oh." Cyrus despondently lowered his right and seized the wand with his left. It didn't explode, but it wasn't very happy to be there. The counter lit on fire.

"No good. You may be one of the trickiest customers, Mr. Obsidian. I wonder…" Ollivander trailed off in thought.

"Wonder what?"

"Will you break Harry Potter's record of most disagreeable?"

Cyrus laughed nervously. Considering who he was, he figured it was inevitable. "I hope not."

They got through the entire stock without a single hit. Some of the wands would rather combust than be in Cyrus's hand, and so scorch marks blemished almost every surface.

"It is as I feared."

Cyrus's mind started filling in the blanks. You can never have another wand. There will never been another match for you. I'm sorry for your lo-

"I'll have to custom-make one."

Green eyes blinked. "Really?" Did he just hear a hopeful squeak in his voice? He hoped not.

Ollivander got a gleam of devious interest. "I'm intrigued as to what your wand will be. Follow me to the back." It was a short walk. Ollivander held the door open and Cyrus walked past. "Grab whatever feels right, and knock on the door when you're done." And with that said, he closed the door in the blonde's face.

Cyrus turned around and stared around the room. It was rather large for a storage room. A table sat in the middle with many strange tools sitting on top. Many strange jars lined the shelves of the room to the left, sticks sat against the wall on the right, and right across from him was a mixture of both. Huh. Curiously, he walked the circumference of the room, and nothing really popped out at him. Well, a few of the sticks were kind of cool looking oh who was he kidding? He didn't know what he was looking for. With a sigh, he leaned against the table and relaxed, taking a couple breaths. He felt his magic spread warily past his skin and blinked in surprise. It was… feeling up the ingredients? Huh.

It pulled him towards the left shelf, and his eyes alighted on a jar of dark liquid, unlabeled. He reached for it and snapped his hand back when the jar stung it. Then he remembered. Lowering his right hand, his dominant hand, he reached for the jar with his left, and flinched expectantly when he touched the jar. Nothing happened. With a relieved breath, he plucked it from the shelf and returned to the table. He let himself relax again, holding the jar, and felt his magic lead him towards the sticks. His eyes were drawn to a long stick of a dark wood, though he couldn't name it if he tried. He picked it up with his left hand, which was quite awkward considering he was still holding the jar. He managed, and they felt right in his hand. Smiling, he walked back to the door and knocked.

Ollivander came bustling into the room with an excited look on his face. "What did you pick? What did you pick?"

Cyrus held out his left hand and the wand maker gently took them from him. He held up the jar to the light and his eyebrows climbed into his hairline. "Dementor's blood and ebony. My, you are tricky." He smiled brightly and got out his measuring tape. It was measuring him in all the strange places while Ollivander examined the stick intensely. "Curious… Very curious, indeed."

Cyrus got an annoying sense of déjà vu. "What's curious?"

Ollivander smiled at him, and it was creepy. "Dementor's blood indicates that you have close ties with death, and ebony embodies pure, unadulterated power. You will one day be very adept at death magic, Mr. Obsidian."

Cyrus paled. "As in the Avada Kedavra curse?"

Ollivander laughed. "Oh dear no. Death magic, Mr. Obsidian. Contact with the dead. If I may suggest, it would be best that you take Necromancy at the school you're going to. If you don't learn to control this wand, it _will_ control you some day." Before Cyrus could respond, he continued. "Now! Why don't you come back in an hour so I can put this wand together for you?" And with that said, he bustled them right out of his shop and flipped the 'open' sign to 'closed'.

Remus and Cyrus shared a look. "Well, what would you like to do first? Clothes and a haircut? Books? Quidditch supplies?"

"Haircut… I think."

Remus nodded and led him down the street to a store that Cyrus had never noticed before. Of course, he'd never been in Diagon Alley before just for sightseeing. It was always about the school supplies. He felt kind of relieved to not have to worry about that this year.

The hair salon they walked into was small. There were only two chairs, and one of them was occupied. The girl blowing bubbles at the counter waved happily at them. It popped. "Whatcha in for today?" she asked around the gum, trying to get it all back in her mouth.

"J-just a cut." Cyrus had never been in a salon before. Whenever Petunia had tried to cut his hair, she had always destroyed it, and then it would be back to normal the next day. If he actually liked the cut, would it stay? Or would it grow back to the length he seemed to be cursed with?

She popped another bubble. "Simon'll be done in another coupla minutes. You wanna wait over there?" she gestured at the short lineup of stools along the wall. Harry spotted a couple magazines sitting on a small table between them. He picked up the one on top and started flipping through it. Did girls really have so many options open to them? Bloody hell. He picked up the only mag with a guy's face and started flipping through it. Short cut, short cut, semi-long cut… Did he want it longer than he already had it, or shorter? He figured at a magic hair salon they probably had hair growth potions. So he could do whatever he wanted, couldn't he? Hm…

"Alright, hop on up, sugar," the stylist cooed with a wink. Cyrus blanched.

Cyrus took the long way around to get to the chair, dodging the gay-vibes American hair stylist. Gingerly sitting down in the chair, he watched the guy in the mirror with hawk eyes.

"How ya doing today, love? What kinda cut did ya want?"

Cyrus stared. "Shorter."

Simon gave _him_ a funny look. "Shorter? Have anything particular in mind?"

Cyrus gave him a weird look. "You're the hair stylist."

The lanky man grinned. "Oh my, the words tha' stole ma heart!" he cooed. "Beware sugar; I am taken, though I could be convinced." He gave a saucy wink.

If Cyrus had hackles… 'Can we get this over with?' he pleaded to whatever gods were out there. "Shorter, please."

"Right ta business, are we? Weeeell." And with that, the stylist did a little wand waving to get his hair clean and wet then did the rest of his voodoo with scissors. Cyrus stared forlornly at the bits of blond hair that landed on the floor. He closed his eyes.

"Oh dear."

His eyes flashed open. "What?!" Had he fucked up already?!

"Dear, if ya don't trust someone ta cut ya hair, don't come to a hair stylist. How c'n I cut ya hair if you jus' grow it back?!" Simon complained dramatically, making it sound as if Cyrus had done him a personal injustice by coming here.

Cyrus stared at his hair in the mirror. His hair looked the same as before. Oh, that was the problem. He sighed, and prepared to get off the chair.

"Now you jus' wait a mo', sugar." Lanky hands clamped down on his shoulders and held him in place. Serious blue eyes met his in the mirror. "I c'n understand why ya nervous, but gettin' ya hair cut ain't a scary thing. Did yo' ma cut it ta bits when ya were a kid?"

Cyrus twitched. "Something like that."

"How 'bout we try this one mo' time? You close yo' eyes. Relax. I'll tell ya when I'm done. If ya don' like it, it'll jus' grow itself back. No harm, no foul." His hands gently kneaded Cyrus's shoulders, and the endearing look on the man's face relaxed him a bit. He wasn't some evil devil here to cut all his hair off, he was just trying to get laid – er, paid. The mental joke cheered him up.

"Okay."

He kept his eyes clenched shut, wincing with each snip, but not looking, not hoping to god that it'd grow back. He had to see it first. Had to decide if it sucked or not. Oh god why did he come here? This really wasn't his thing, what if the guy cut off too much? What if he had a bald spot he'd never known was there?

What if-

"Done."

Cyrus peeked open one eye, slowly. Then they both snapped open, and he couldn't help but stare. The stylist had turned his crow-nest hair into a stylish mess. A stylish short mess. He turned his head from side to side, ran his hair through the inch-long spikes on top. He smiled. It looked good. Really good.

"Now that has got to be the sexiest, rumpled, just-got-out-of-bed look I've ever seen," the girl at the counter stared at him. "Can I get your floo?"

Cyrus turned to Remus, a hopeful expression on his face. The tawny-haired werewolf grinned at him. "Looking great, cub." He ruffled the stylish blond mess. Cyrus beamed.

Simon leaned woozily against the wall. "The love fills this room," he sighed contently. "Another masterpiece." He kissed the air. "Ya lucky, kid. Ya don' even hafta put potions in to get tha' look. I know people whoda kill for tha' hair."

Cyrus smiled. "How much do I owe you?"

"A night at ma place."

Cyrus blanched.

Simon sighed. "It was worth a try. Pay Cindy-baby there 12 sickles."

Cyrus divvied out the dough and beat it out of there. He ran a hand through his short locks and smiled. It would be much easier to deal with this short. Longer on top and short on the sides… He liked it. It hadn't been as bad as Petunia's attempts. Aside from the creepy gay dude. He had nice blue eyes, but he was just so… out there. "Was that about an hour?"

Remus laughed. "Want your new wand? I think we still have half an hour to kill. How about we get you some new clothes? And Severus told me I had to take you for a fitting at this place in Knockturn before the day ends. Which do you want to do first?"

Cyrus frowned. "A fitting? What for?"

"Body armor."

Green eyes flew wide open. "Armor? Why would I need armor?"

Remus smiled sadly. "You're going to Shikaan, Cyrus. This isn't going to be a walk in the park. You're going to need protection."

"Let's go for the fitting."

_oOo_

Knockturn Alley was a dark and dreary as Cyrus remembered it from second year, when he'd accidentally popped into a store that dealt in… questionable items. With Remus beside him, the leers and creepy old ladies weren't so creepy though. Ha! I have a werewolf! Try and attack me now, weirdos!

The quaint little shop Remus led him to, didn't seem like anything special, but then again the whole alley was that way. The inside was certainly more inviting. Metal-plated armor lined the walls, along with some weird full-body suits.

"Evening, gentleman. What can I do for you?"

"We're here for a fitting." Remus stepped in front of Cyrus slightly.

The man standing in the middle of the room chuckled. "Really now. You have an appointment?"

"Yes, in fact I do."

The man looked surprised. "Who told you to come here?"

"Severus Snape."

Recognition flashed in beady little eyes. "Ah, Snape. Right, come this way please." He led them into the back. "Snape said that he was sending in a project for us. Full body armor, designed to stretch for growth, made of an as-yet undetermined material. So, first things first, what do you want it made of? Dragon skin, basilisk skin, acromantula silk, thestral skin?"

Cyrus blinked. "You have all of those?"

The man laughed. "God no. All our customers provide their own supplies. Snape said that you had a real gem for us to work with." The man got a gleam in his black eyes.

Cyrus frowned. "Now what would he have…" His eyes widened. No. How would Snape have known about that? Then again, he had been rifling around in Cyrus's mind for the past two months. How could he _not_ know about it? "Right… it'll be basilisk."

The man grinned. "What breed?"

Cyrus frowned. "I don't know, actually. I'll have to come back with the skin… I'm not sure how I'm going to skin it…"

Two sets of eyebrows rose. "What? You have a fully intact basilisk?"

Cyrus laughed nervously. "Long story. Snape will take care of it. Now, we're here for a fitting? Where are the measuring tapes?"

The man frowned. "Flander doesn't do measuring tape. I'll be taking a full body statue carving of you. This way it will perfectly fit the contours of your body."

"Flander? Are you Flander?"

The man laughed. "God no. I just man the little lady's shop. People don't like to buy weapons or armor from girls. For some reason they think it's of lower quality than that of a man's, which is complete bollocks. Flander's the best in Britain, perhaps even the world. She's worth every galleon." He got a dreamy look in his eyes. Cyrus figured he had just a teensy weensy crush.

The full-body casting didn't take much time at all, it was a quick spell. Next all he had to do was choose the design.

"Do you know what kind of weapons you're fighting with, or going to fight with?"

Cyrus blinked. "Er… no."

The man wrote something down. "You may have to come back for a specially designed sheath or attachment, then. Otherwise standard designs for dagger sheaths and other hidden pockets for hidden surprises apply. Flander likes to design her armor to best suit her customer's needs and fighting style, so if you know any more when you drop off the skin, be sure to mention it."

Cyrus nodded, paid the man a down payment for the designs and commitment, and left.

"It's been an hour, right?"

Remus had trouble containing his mirth all the way back to Ollivander's.

There were two people inside when Remus and Cyrus showed up, but Ollivander was quick to excuse himself and rush to their side. He pulled a slim, long wand case from his vest with a strange glint in his eyes. "Mr. Obsidian. I think you will be very happy with your new wand." He lifted the cover off the case and Cyrus couldn't help but stare at the sheer length of the thing. "I had to make a custom case to fit this wand. It's a grand total of fifteen inches, the longest wand that I have ever made. It refused to be shortened to even the standard thirteen, so I'm afraid you will have to get used to the odd handling of a wand longer than it should be designed to be."

Cyrus stared at the black, carefully crafted shaft and shakily reached out a hand to grasp it. As soon as his left hand met the wand, the light in the room flickered, and shadows grew from the floor for just a moment, before receding and settling. He waved it experimentally, and rather awkwardly, considering he wasn't used to casting with his left hand. Red, purple, and black fireworks burst from the tip, and he could have sworn it purred under his fingers.

Ollivander sighed dreamily in content, seeing wand and master bond successfully.

"It's perfect. How much do I owe you?"

"It's 20 galleons for the ingredients. I won't charge you for the labor. I thoroughly enjoyed myself." Ollivander literally beamed at them. "Thank you for your business, Mr.… Obsidian." He winked.

Cyrus stared. "Um… Can I get two wand hostlers on top of that?"

"Leg or arm?"

"One of each."

Cyrus happily paid him, ignoring the stares of the two other customers, and left the shop.

"What do you want to do now?" Remus asked.

Cyrus grinned. "Screw clothes. I want to go cast some magic."

_oOo_

Cyrus wanted to look for his phoenix feather when he and Snape went to the Chamber of Secrets for the basilisk, but the vampire absolutely refused. "_I_ can't dismantle Dumbledore's wards undetected, what makes you think you can, Po- Obsidian? Perhaps if you study hard enough this year you could dent them."

This was, of course, extremely disheartening, but he didn't really have a choice. And in the meantime, he had another wand, even though he had to get used to doing all the motions backwards. He blew up a chair with a failed Wingardium Leviosa. Snape had sent him to practice in his room after that. It took him a couple days to relearn all of the spells he could remember from school, but after all the trouble he felt much better for it. He wasn't a sitting duck anymore. It was a good feeling.

The day after they dropped off the basilisk skin for Flander, Snape had Cyrus picking out his courses for the coming year.

_To the student in question:_

_The Shikaan Institute is a vigorous and difficult school. A variety of courses are offered and a few are mandatory, but for the most part students are allowed to go in whichever academic direction they so choose. It is recommended not to take more than four courses aside from the core, and not all courses listed are available to first years. Please note that humans are not the majority at this facility and as such students may have difficulties keeping up with their classmates. If you are interested, please indicate which courses you would like to take and sign the bottom of the page with your signature and a drop of your blood. Please note that the name you write is the name that will be on your graduation certificate._

_Headmistress Kyranes_

_Mandatory courses:_

_Charms_

_Dark Arts and Their Defense_

_Weapons and Battle_

_Other courses:_

_Ancient History_

_Animagus Lessons (1) _**Yes**

_Arithmancy_

_Astronomy_

_Caring for Magical Creatures_

_Elemental Magic (2)_

_Healing _**Yes**

_Herbology_

_History of Magic_

_Interracial Relations_

_Metalsmithing_

_Necromancy (2) _**Yes**

_Potions_

_Ritual Magic (3)_

_Runes _**Yes**

_Spell Crafting (4)_

_Study of Ancient Magic_

_Transfiguration_

_Wandless Magic _**Yes**

_1 – Please note this is a part time course taken only as long as the student requires_

_2 – Please note that only those with the aptitude may take this course_

_3 – Please note that first year Potions is a prerequisite for Ritual Magic_

_4 – Please note that first and second year Runes is a prerequisite for Spell Crafting_

_Thank you for choosing the Shikaan Institute._

So many courses. It was so hard to choose what not to do. Though he figured he could always pick up another course in a couple years. He couldn't wait to start! Maybe that Runes course would help him with that weird sight of his? And Necromancy… he wasn't sure how he felt about that, but Ollivander was an old and experienced wizard. What reason would he have to steer Cyrus wrong?

The next day Snape took him to Shikaan so they could submit his course selection and get the list of supplies they would need for those courses. He side-along apparated them, and the squeezing sensation was greater than Cyrus had ever experienced before. When they finally landed, nearly knocking Cyrus off his feet, he couldn't help but stare at the sight in front of him.

Shikaan was huge. They had landed in the middle of a field leading up to the gates, and beyond that a huge black-marble mansion sat. It wasn't as big as Hogwarts, but Hogwarts had a lot of rooms that were never used. Shikaan, however, was no less magnificent.

Snape led him through the gates and up to the school. The halls were mostly empty, as classes were probably in session. The Headmistress's office wasn't too far from the entrance, and it certainly wasn't up a rotating staircase. It was a normal door, in a normal-looking hallway, and except for the prevailing black marble, he could have been in a normal, muggle private school. The floating lights at the ceiling were a giveaway, though.

The vampire knocked once, and the door immediately swung open. Cyrus followed him into the room.

"Good afternoon, Severus." The voice, though soft, carried easily to them. Snape twitched. "You have our new student, yes?"

It took a moment for Cyrus to figure out where the voice was coming from, as the Headmistress was so still she blended into the lilac curtains. He stared. Her hair… it nearly reached the floor, and it was the same color as the curtains. Was it natural? Probably not. She turned around, and Cyrus almost let loose a gasp. Red eyes bore into his own.

"Good afternoon, Cyrus Obsidian. I am Kyranes, Headmistress of this Institution."

"G-good afternoon, Headmistress." Was that a wobble in his voice? There was no way she was human. What was she exactly? And how did she already know his name?

She smiled, and a petite fang peeked through her small lips. "You have chosen your courses?"

Snape held up the course selection form from the day before. She summoned it to her with an absent gesture, and it landed smoothly in her hands.

"You have chosen five courses outside the core? Are you sure you are prepared for the weight?"

Cyrus laughed nervously. "I'm not sure of anything, but I'm going to do my best."

Kyranes smiled, and it sent shivers up his spine. "Very good. A little humility will serve you well here, where you will discover most of your classmates outclass you. Since Mr. Snape came to us before the start of school in September, everything has been prepared for your departure. You will take this with you when you go back to September." She floated the sheet of parchment back to Cyrus.

Cyrus stared. "I'm afraid I don't understand. When I go back to September?"

She slipped a dainty hand into the folds of her elaborate white robes and pulled out a small golden object. Cyrus's eyes widened at the sight of it. "You are familiar with a time turner?"

"Isn't that a little… too convenient?"

Kyranes chuckled. "How is it convenient if it is not taken advantage of? I am the Headmistress, and you wish to be enrolled for classes this year. It is a simple matter."

"I thought time turners could only go back hours or days at most?"

Kyranes smiled. "The time turner that you are familiar with is one of those created for the Ministries of the human realm. It was not humans who made them. A time turner is only limited by the power of the wizard using it, and the quality of the materials from which it was crafted. A faulty wand will only kill the caster, after all."

"So the time turners at the Ministry were faulty?"

She smiled. "Not faulty, merely less effective. To go back a month you will need to turn this one 30 times. I will entrust it to you until you have acquired your school supplies and gone back to September. I expect it back when you return." She waved her hand at a filing folder sitting along the wall and it opened and ejected some papers. "These are the supplies needed for your courses. You will also be required to choose a weapon for your Weapons and Battle course. Choose carefully."

Cyrus took the papers out of the air and started looking over them. He needed a lot of books for Runes, and salt, herbs, and a dagger for Necromancy. All in all, it wasn't a lot of stuff to get, as he wasn't taking Potions this year. Thank god for that.

"Thank you, Headmistress," Snape interjected for Cyrus, who was engrossed in reading his lists.

Kyranes acknowledged his thanks with a slight tilting of the head. "The rest will be explained upon your arrival, such as dormitories." She floated the time turner over to Snape, and he gingerly took it out of the air.

Cyrus smiled. "Thank you."

"It is best that we leave to get Cyrus's supplies. Thank you for accepting him so late in the year," Snape bowed slightly, something Cyrus had never seen before. Was he supposed to bow too? He didn't know. Snape put a hand on his shoulder and led him out of the room. They apparated straight home just as a bell rang signaling the end of class. Cyrus caught sight of himself coming out of a nearby door and smiled. 'I look comfortable enough,' he thought to himself before they vanished.

Remus greeted them upon their return. "How did it go?"

Cyrus grinned. "I think everything just might work out."

_-Toki Mirage-_

Chapter four finally up! Just under 10,000 words. I was very happy with how this chapter turned out. Spent 15 hours working on it, all in one day. Well, not including betaing, which prolonged the update two weeks because of shifty emailing. I swear hotmail wasn't working just to spite me... Well, it's out now. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Thanks for sticking around!

_Edit 13/07/09 – Fixed a giant inconsistency that no one has noticed or mentioned, so I won't draw your attention to it. :P_


	5. Chapter Five: Shikaan

**Bloody Skies:**

_oOo_

Chapter Five:

_oOo_

"And finally, this is your room for the rest of your stay. Dormitories aren't split by year or race here. Most of the time we don't even know who our neighbours are. Living here, if you don't know enough about protective wards, can be dangerous to your health." The werewolf sounded like he was reading a warning label.

Cyrus felt his stomach sink a little. He knew nothing about wards. He didn't even know how to stop himself from smacking face-first into one, and he had a feeling that his 'tour guide' wouldn't help him if he asked. They probably saw it as a sign of weakness. He was so screwed.

"Anything else?" the werewolf drawled, a supremely uninterested look on his face. He'd shown Cyrus where the gym, the dojo, the pool, the library, the Healer's room, and some of the classes were. When Cyrus had come back with the time turner, the first place he'd gone to was the Headmistress's office in order to return it. She'd had a guide prepared for him, and the werewolf had followed Kyranes's instructions to the letter, neither falling short of or exceeding her expectations.

Cyrus attempted a smile. "No. Thanks for your help."

The werewolf didn't reply and left.

With a soft sigh, he opened his door and noted the lack of a keyhole or a lock. Not that they would have stopped an Alohamora – or a foot – but it was nice to wish.

The room was twice as large as his bedroom at Snape's, but most of it was taken up by the kitchen, some bookshelves, and a table and chair. And a dresser. At least now Cyrus didn't have to try and half-ass a transfiguration. He'd never been very good at that class. Sure, he knew some basics, but he didn't go out of his way to study it. He would just look up the spell for whatever transfiguration he needed at any given time.

Snape and Cyrus had gone to Flander's to pick up the full body armor before side-along apparating to Gemini Square, so Cyrus knew where it was for later. The first thing he had done after coming back in time was shop for his supplies and clothes. The robes Snape had gotten him were fine, but they weren't exactly his style… He didn't particularly like so much wind between his legs. From what he'd seen of Shikaan so far, they also favored pants. Probably for maneuverability. Remus had been concerned about Cyrus going alone to Gemini Square, but Snape insisted that it wasn't any more dangerous than Shikaan, and at least Cyrus had a wand now. He wasn't completely defenseless.

He was particularly looking forward to the Necromancy class. From what he'd heard during the tour, the first day of a handful of classes, Necromancy being one of them, was actually a test for the ability. If a student didn't have the potential, they were allowed to pick another course in its place. From what Ollivander had said about his wand, he was pretty much guaranteed to get in. He just hoped that the lack of his phoenix feather wand wouldn't cause him too many immediate problems.

Speaking of immediate problems. Wards. He needed to learn how to cast them, and how to break them if he was ever going to get into Dumbledore's office and get his phoenix feather back. There _was_ that strange sight of his that could dismantle spells, but warding had to be more complicated than that. Bill Weasley had spent _years_ studying warding for his job in Egypt. It was better to be safe than sorry, so the first thing Cyrus did after unpacking his clothes into the dresser (but leaving his books in his trunk, as they were safer there), was go to the library.

_oOo_

The library was the only place in the entire school that didn't seem to be fashioned out of black marble. Aside from the stone floor and walls, all the furniture and shelving units were a dark red wood. He wondered if they had anti-fire charms on them. Probably.

The lighting was weak, but just strong enough in the right spots to allow visitors to read worn spines. Not particularly wanting to futilely search every bookshelf for a subject, he turned to the best substitution for a Hermione: a librarian.

"Excuse me?"

A bored-looking woman sat at the counter, flipping through a muggle magazine of all things. Next to it were a stack of other magazines such as 'Celebrity Hairstyles' and 'People'. Was she muggleborn? She glanced at him briefly. "What can I do for you?" She didn't sound particularly enthused to be there.

"Where would I find books on warding?"

She stared at him. "Wow. You must be a real noob if you don't even know what section to look in."

Cyrus glared. "That's why I'm asking."

She tilted her head curiously, and actually closed the magazine to stare at him. "No need to be so defensive, little human. That's why you're a freshy here, so you get less stupid."

Cyrus had the urge to send a fire spell at her magazines, but he ruthlessly suppressed it when his magic stirred around him in response. No need to piss off a senior student. Already. It wasn't even first day of classes yet.

She smiled at him, and her eyes flashed behind a pair of narrow glasses. "You got decent control for a noob. You study wandless magic before you come here?"

"Don't see why it's any of your business."

The next thing he knew, her face was two inches away from his own. He jerked and took a step back in surprise. She laughed. "You're funny. I think I'll help you. But only if you pay me a small price."

"What price?" Green eyes narrowed.

She grinned. "An ounce of blood."

"I'd rather not." And with that said, he walked away.

"It's not wise to turn your back on a potential enemy, little human." The sound came from right next to his ear. He jumped away, eliciting a laugh from the crazy librarian. "But you got guts. I like that in my food. I'll give you a little lesson for free this time, but next time I'm expectin' compensation." She walked off into an aisle, and Cyrus cautiously followed.

"There are a couple different kinds of warding. The most popular and most ineffective kind is by spell. A wizard or witch waves their wand and speaks the spell and poof, instant ward. These are the easiest to break, of course, because they exist purely as magic without a focus to bind them to existence. If someone were to break the connection of the spell to whatever it was warding, the entire structure would fall apart as easily as a spider's web. Prime example: Notice-me-not charm.

"The second kind of warding is casting a spell on a focus, and using the focus as an anchor. Your ward lasts longer this way, and it's moderately harder to break, but a person versed in intermediate ward-breaking could easily pick it apart. A branch of this method is using blood in the spell-creation. Blood boosts all kinds of things. Once blood's in the picture, you start moving more towards ritual wards than spell wards.

"The goblins have their own ward making methods, which they don't share, so the last one I could tell you about is the rune-based wardings. I've never taken Runes myself, so I couldn't tell you much about them except that they're notorious for being the most complicated and difficult to break. Very few people ever spend the time to become Rune Masters. It's a very tedious learning process, and figuring out how to craft the runes out of magic and string them all together… well, let's say I get a lot of flack from my brother about how tough his course is. He's a wuss when it comes to hard work that doesn't involve beating the shit out of people."

She winked at him, and Cyrus couldn't help but be a little impressed.

"I'm a fountain of useless knowledge. That's usually why I ask to get paid. I'm TA for the librarian, and in return for working for her, I get unlimited access to her personal library." She put her hands on her hips. "This was a first-time freebee, but next time I'm expectin' to either get paid, or get laid, capiche?"

Cyrus blushed. She could be a useful resource.

"Thanks for your help."

She nodded and motioned at the bookcase behind her. "This is where you'll want to be looking for any detailed information. I know that they cover it a bit in Charms class, the spell warding that is, but it isn't until you get into the higher levels of Runes that you learn any ward crafting. That's usually why magic-folk prefer to hire someone to do wardings for them. It's a rather obscure and tedious branch of magic."

Cyrus nodded. "Thanks."

She nodded and traipsed off, probably going back to her 'People' magazine. Why was a vampire of all species interested in the muggle world? She did say that she was a fountain of useless knowledge. Maybe she just liked to read. Or know everything. Kind of like Hermione, actually, except not.

He started pulling a couple books off the shelf to browse for spell wards. It would be the best place to start.

_oOo_

It had been a week since his arrival at Shikaan. Cyrus had spent his time perusing his own library, as well as the school's. His goal had been to learn enough about warding that he wouldn't be killed the first night of classes, but he could only _hope_ to have succeeded. The few students he'd run into in the hallways had ignored him for the most part so far.

Now tomorrow was the first day of classes, and Kyranes had made an announcement through the school that the welcoming dinner would commence at 6 PM. So far, Cyrus had had to buy and cook all his own food in his tiny kitchen, but he honestly didn't mind. Since he'd paid his tuition, meal, and other extraneous fees upon his arrival, he didn't have to worry about food until the end of the first semester, which was Christmas, coincidentally.

Cyrus took a deep breath as he prepared to enter the Main Hall where everyone was gathering to eat. There were no doors, just a gigantic archway, and he wasn't the only person cutting it close. He got a few leers from older-looking students, and wary looks from new ones. Not really knowing where to sit, he headed for the first table of people that didn't glare at him. A few vampires flashed their fangs at him as he walked past. He wondered if they were genuinely hateful of his species or if it was just a game to them. Two points a flinch, five points a scream, ten points for a double whammy. Drinks are on whoever gets the least!

At exactly 6 PM, Headmistress Kyranes stood from her place at the head table and examined her students with cool, red eyes. "Welcome." She slowly lifted an empty wine glass, and it filled with a dark red liquid. She held it up in salute. "To a new year a Shikaan. Half of you newcomers will not be here for graduation, but may you attain as much as you can during your allotted time here." She took a sip, and as she sat down menus appeared on every table.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Well. He could only hope he was in the lucky 50 percentile.

Turning his thoughts away from the grimmer side of things – hey, he was out of the Dursleys', it could only be so grim – he glanced down at the menu in front of him. There were a couple students at his table that were the first to order, but most of them were just as curious as he was. Beside each item of food was a number. The numbers were declining every second. He quickly scanned the options and blanked at the sight of 'raw steak' and 'chicken's blood', as well as other oddities at the top of the menu. What was a fried chikalow tail? Quickly scanning to the bottom, he found steak & potato and touched it with his finger. The dish popped in front of him. Huh. He tapped 'water' and 'lemonade', and two glasses appeared next to the plate. It was far more efficient than the Hogwarts method of overflowing the tables and leaving the students to fight over the chicken.

During his meal, Cyrus shifted his attention to the throng of people around him. He couldn't tell who was what, unless they revealed the telltale amber of bestiality in their eyes or the flash of fang. And were there other species? His acceptance letter had been vague about it, and Snape had never really told him.

The meal progressed with minimal chatter. Cyrus could pick out a few cliques, label a few faces as ones to avoid, but other than that there wasn't much to observe.

Until Kyranes left.

It was as if the room had been unofficially declared a war zone. Cyrus could feel spells flying subtly, and not-so-subtly, all around the room. He felt a few hexes hit him, and ended up growing bat ears and buckteeth, but it wasn't until a pain spell and a cutting curse nearly smacked into him that he pulled out his wand and wrapped the skin-hugging shield that he had learned in the past couple days around himself. It would absorb and redirect most spells that hit him harmlessly into the floor. With the kind of shield he wore, if you had the power to keep it in existence, it was priceless. If you didn't, it was useless. It would break at the first powerful dark spell that hit it, and you'd get a nasty backlash. Cyrus hadn't tested the spell yet, but he'd never had a problem powering spells before – just controlling the finer details.

And so, when a curse powerful enough to knock him to the floor smashed into him, and the shield survived the power drainage, you could say the caster and a few more observant upper classmen were… surprised. Alarmed. Curious? Cyrus burned their faces into his memory and disapparated to his room. They were added to his mental 'avoid' list.

He couldn't say he was very impressed with the reception and induction thus far.

_oOo_

The 'friendly' hexes took a little research and improvisation to remove, but Cyrus had them off before the end of the night, thank Merlin. He'd have to get used to there being no Madam Pomfrey to remove hexes and heal scraped knees. It would have been social suicide if he didn't have the hexes removed by morning. His non-existent reputation would have been tarnished for eternity. It would be the end of the world. He'd never live down his infamy.

There were plusses to no longer being famous.

He could joke with himself about it not being that big of a deal, but with this school, he wasn't so sure of that. He could get his ass handed to him if he didn't know what he was doing. It wasn't like Hogwarts, where Harry Picking His Nose In Public made the headlines, but he had a feeling it could be just as bad. He didn't know if Shikaan had a paper, but they probably didn't need one with the gossip networks that always seemed to exist wherever _people_ existed.

The hexes were off, but Cyrus was seriously considering trying to figure out a way to keep a personal shield going all day, or more importantly, all night. At least until he knew some basic warding. He couldn't exactly go to Spinner's End to live. And he had to wait a month before he saw Remus or Snape, or before he even went to the bank. After all, Harry Potter didn't actually have blond hair at this point in time… it was all very confusing. Some things he didn't think would be a big deal, like going to Gemini Square, but he didn't want to push his luck and fuck anything up, so he decided to just play it safe. He just had to survive the first month intact, then he could go crawling back to Snape.

He cringed at the thought. Snape had thought he could handle it, but could he really?

He only knew three shield spells: one that protected against physical objects, one that absorbed weaker spells, and the full-body bubble he'd just learned in the past three days. He needed a bigger arsenal of defense spells. Or else he was goin' down.

_oOo_

The next morning Cyrus almost had to crawl out of his Weapons & Battle class. Ouragan, a werewolf master of twenty different forms of martial arts as well as 50 different weapons, had worked them into the ground with their new training schedule. Most of the vampires and werewolves did fine, but it became quickly apparent that humans and the other magical species were just not meant to fight each other hand-to-hand. There were a handful of 'humans' that did relatively fine, but Cyrus had a hunch that those 'humans' were really just Veela, or something.

And so, back to the crawling. Cyrus was almost late to his first Necromancy class because his legs wouldn't function properly. He got a few dirty looks from the other students as he stood in the doorway just as the bell rang. When they changed a few seconds later to 'oh shit look behind you', he nearly jumped out of his shoes when a gravelly baritone growled in his ear.

"Are you going to clear the doorway or make me late for my own class?"

Cyrus quickly shuffled aside and was almost floored by the scent of the man as he pushed past. Cinnamon and musk. And by the wings and tail. Bat-like wings. Huh?

"Sit down like the rest of the class, so I can start my lesson." He had the most intense sapphire eyes. Inhuman.

Cyrus gave himself a mental shake and sat at the closest desk. There were no books for Necromancy. They just needed a kit with a blade, salt, and a couple different herbs. He left his kit in his bag, as he doubted they would be using it. The first day of classes for Necromancy, like the Elemental class, was a test for the ability.

The… Professor, whatever species he was, settled himself at the front of the class with an ease that Cyrus had only witnessed in people such as McGonagall, who just enjoyed teaching. Snape, comfortable hanging over a potion or chopping up ingredients, had never been so at ease in front of so many people. That was why he had tried to let the textbook do the teaching. Obviously, he hadn't been very successful. The mortality rate of grades in his classroom was legendary.

"Good evening, class. I'm Professor Yankovich, and for those of you who don't know, I'm a rare breed of shadow demon. Some of you I've seen before, others are new faces here at Shikaan. As most of you are aware, today is not a formal class. I'll be testing you all for the gift, and those without it'll be forced to leave. If we have time before the end of class, I'll give a small lecture. You'll each come to the front starting at the far left desk closest to me, moving back down the row, and then the next row, et cetera. You'll sit quietly until I've finished with everyone." Yankovich sat himself down in one of the two chairs at the front of the room. His tail curled around one of the legs of the chair, and his wings flared slightly to the side so he didn't sit on them. Cyrus wondered if he'd always had wings.

The class was incredibly boring. They weren't even allowed to talk to each other, not that they would try, and Yankovich sat across from his students with their hands in his, eyes closed. Some students took two seconds for him to send on their way or invite them to stay, while others took ten minutes each. Cyrus hoped to Merlin this wouldn't be like his wand-choosing.

Since he'd been late to class, he was conveniently in the far back right corner of the room, and therefore, last. He spent an hour of the class mentally going over spells he was studying before he was finally called to the front.

Yankovich's eyes were not kind when they settled on him. Cyrus didn't know if it was because he was human, he was late, or because the teacher just wasn't friendly, but intense sapphire eyes focused on him for a whole five seconds, studying, before they slipped shut and warm, long-nailed hands clasped his own. He felt a weird sensation ripple up his arms, and he instinctively shoved it out. Yankovich's eyes snapped open and stared at him. Then they narrowed. "Don't resist, or this'll be more difficult than it needs to be." The demon hadn't said anything to the other students, and so this break from the norm caught most of the bored class's interest. Only one quarter of the original class remained at that point.

The energy traveled up his arms again, but this time Yankovich kept his eyes open and focused on Cyrus's face. The human tried to keep his rebellion under control, but he really wanted the foreign whatever out of him. When the tendril of sensation touched his core, he almost exploded. His magic hummed under his skin, the current increasing in speed in response to his heartbeat.

"Relax."

Cyrus grit his teeth. "Kinda hard."

A faint sparkle of amusement entered the cold blue eyes. "Feels like someone has a finger up your ass, doesn't it?"

Cyrus choked on his breath and stared at his Professor in shock. The demon was smirking now, especially in response to the half-hearted laugh of the room. They didn't know whether it was supposed to be funny or not.

"Well, I suppose we might as well make a lesson of this. Attention class, this is your last-minute lecture of the day. To those who're more in tune with their magic than others, also known as magic-sensitive, having someone extend their magic through you like a probe is as intimate as a lover pressing themselves inside you. Most of you will be incapable of doing this anyway, one day, but some of you will. Those who are both lucky and cursed to be magic-sensitive can expect mind-blowing orgasms or mind-blowing pain. It depends on the skill of the lover, which can be said for any sexual situation, really."

Cyrus was only half-listening to the conversation going on outside his body. The tendrils of magic poking around in his core were very distracting. Yankovich was looking for something, but Cyrus had no idea what. At this point, the tendrils didn't feel pleasant or painful, just… weird. The demon was very gentle, not eliciting any 'reaction' on Cyrus's part, which would have been incredibly embarrassing.

The bell rang, and Yankovich was still poking around. "You're all dismissed. I'll see you next class."

Cyrus felt a stir of panic at the idea of being alone with the demon, but nothing changed as the last student went through the door and shut it with a soft thud. A couple minutes later, Yankovich pulled back and let go of Cyrus's hands.

"Why did you choose this class?"

Cyrus stared. What, did Yankovich not find anything? Ollivander said he could do death magic, though. "Um… because of my wand."

The demon got a hint of interest in his eyes. "Show me."

Carefully, Cyrus reached into his left pocket and pulled out his wand. He'd had to do some modifications to Ollivander's leg holster, and his pants, in order to get the sheath into his left pocket. He'd found that the fifteen-inch wonder wouldn't fit any-bloody-where else. It was like trying to fit a sword sheath under your sleeve. It just didn't fit.

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "Why did your wand-maker leave it so long?"

Cyrus found himself blushing, though he didn't quite know why. "He said it wouldn't let itself be shortened."

Dark eyes examined the length, and his head tilted slightly to one side in curiosity. "How does it cast?"

Cyrus blinked. What did this have to do with finding out if he had Necromantic abilities? He cast a levitating charm at one of the desks in the room, and it was quick to respond, nearly bouncing into the air.

"Can you cast Avada Kedavra?"

His mouth fell open. Why would he want to know that? "I've… never cast it before."

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't cast it, or never tried?"

"I've never needed to."

Yankovich's lips twitched. "You'll need it now." Cyrus wasn't sure if he was referring to this class or his stay at Shikaan. "Try to cast it."

Cyrus frowned. "I thought death magic wasn't all about the Avada Kedavra curse."

"It isn't. Just do as I ask."

"How?" Cyrus looked down at his wand. "Just say the words?"

"Think about the spell before you cast it. Think of how that kind of spell could function, how it could work. Then cast it."

Cyrus stared down at his wand and held it in front of him. He thought about death, about killing a person. About the hate that Voldemort felt every time he cursed one of his followers. The disgust that drove him to killing them if they failed him. The feeling of satisfaction that the monster felt every time he felt the power flowing through him. Cyrus stopped that trail of thought immediately. He didn't kill for pleasure, so when would he ever need to kill someone?

Defending himself.

Cyrus thought of the faces in the Main Hall, of the cutting curse that had almost hit him. He imagined the face that was the most surprised at his shield and could imagine the hatred that could have driven another person to attack him in that way. He thought about how, one day, he would need to kill the bastard who had killed his parents. He lifted his wand and whispered the words. "Avada Kedavra."

His wand burst to life under his hand, and happily formed the green death magic that went crashing into the still-floating desk and blew it to pieces. He stared at his wand in shock, then at Yankovich, who had stood up behind him and had his hands on Cyrus's shoulders. He could feel the tendrils of a foreign energy, and resisted the almost undeniable urge to shove it away.

"There it is," the rough baritone murmured behind him. "You have quite the lid on your death magic, Mr. Obsidian. It will be a slow process prying the door open, but once you get there…" He stared at Cyrus with an odd intensity. "You should hurry to your next class. You'll be late in a few minutes."

Cyrus's eyes widened, and he took off down the row of desks and snagged his bag as he went. He didn't want to be late to his Animagus class on the first day.

_oOo_

The first week of classes went by rather smoothly. Almost… too smoothly. Cyrus still couldn't tell who was what species, unless they were vampire. Most of the bloodsuckers weren't exactly subtle. The only time he could tell a werewolf from the crowd was when their eyes changed amber in anger. Not knowing who to attempt to make friends with, he mostly kept to himself and the library.

And so, the librarian TA that he had met his first day at Shikaan would often taunt him about his lack of sociability.

"Hey, kid! Whatcha in for today?" she asked, a friendly smirk on her face.

Cyrus nodded in greeting. "Just studying."

"Again? You ever gonna make some friends?"

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "If I can find one that won't off me in my sleep."

She laughed. "Do you honestly think some freshman's high on another student's priority list? Sure, a vampire might sneak into your room for a midnight snack, but why would they kill their meal ticket? Most of the killings in this school are more… personal. Generally someone has to do something to offend another student, they duke it out, and they either come to an agreement or off each other. Simple as that. You could do to make some friends, get some connections…" She eyed him up and down. "You don't look like much, and if you maintain this loner attitude of yours for too long, attention's going to be brought to you. The kind you don't want when you have no friends to back you up." She lifted an eyebrow.

Cyrus shrugged.

She scrutinized him. "Unless you expect people to just flock to you."

"I don't expect anything. If there's someone here who would make a good friend, we'll meet. Eventually. There's no point in floating around looking for superficial relations."

She scoffed. "Whatever."

Cyrus went back to studying. He'd been learning more spells in the last couple days than he ever had in a month in Hogwarts, and that was in and out of his classes. Charms was a tough class. Sure, they went over spells like Wingardium Leviosa, but since it was an 'easy' spell, they would learn five to ten of them in one class. This totally screwed Cyrus up because on the days they only learned two hard spells, he managed to get them going in a couple minutes, whereas when he had to learn a handful of 'easy' spells like Accio, he was treading water for hours before he figured them out.

From what he could remember from Snape that day they were talking about why the vampire would never have survived Shikaan, it had something to do with his power output. He overloaded easy spells, but got the hard ones like a piece of cake. This resulted in him more often than not skipping over the easy spells during his personal study time because they took more work and there wasn't much reward.

He had learned a lot of spell wards in the last week. He had five different locking charms on his door, as well as a notice-me-not spell. His window had been saturated with strengthening spells and locking charms. He had covered the entrances to his room, but he wasn't nearly skilled enough to do something like put a complete ward around the room. Ward crafting took more know-how than a couple waves of a stick, unfortunately. From what he'd read, it truly was an art form, even the most basic level of it. Magic-folk preferred to hire ward crafters rather than learn more than they needed to.

This, of course, made it more difficult for Cyrus to learn the art. What he really needed was to apprentice to a master, but apprenticing was full time study. With him being in school, he wouldn't have time to apprentice even on the off chance that someone would be willing to take him on.

The closest he could get was Runes. It was by far the most uneventful class in his schedule, which wasn't really a bad thing, but when they had to memorize the equivalent of magical math for hours on end… Well, he could tell why most people didn't have the patience for it. However, most people didn't have the advantage and incentive of being able to see everything made of the runes. It was an odd mixture of math and language, as some of the runes were all about the numbers and others were words with actual _meaning. _Every day, as he learned more of the 'language', of the 'math', he broadened his understanding of the spells he studied with his sight in the privacy of his room.

It was a slow process, but a fulfilling one. Unfortunately, with his zeal to learn as much as he could from the Runes textbooks, the class was quickly becoming the most boring in his course load.

_oOo_

At the beginning of the second week of classes, Cyrus woke to a pair of fangs in his neck and strong hands restraining his surprised thrashing. With the sensory overload of pain, pleasure, and being unable to move, the magic current burst from the confines of his skin and blasted the vampire off of him and into the ceiling. Cyrus rolled out of his bed before the vampire's body could obey the laws of gravity, landing in a crouch on the floor, his wand appearing in his hand out of nowhere. He wasn't in the right mindset to notice its transportation.

The vampire landed gracefully on his bed, flashing fang through a satisfied smirk. Cyrus fired off as many explosive and permanently damaging spells he could remember, but the vampire just laughed and vanished into the shadows of his room.

Naked except for boxer shorts, a thunk echoed through the suddenly quiet room as Cyrus collapsed onto his ass. He stared at the hole where his wall used to be. At least the door was still standing. He absently noted that he needed to coat his walls with strengthening and protective spells, so they wouldn't blow up at the first sign of heavy spell fire. Casting a broad Reparo, he watched the marble rubble form back into solid stone, wanting to avoid the thought of what had just happened for a little bit longer.

Wide awake, he abandoned the idea of going back to sleep for the next three hours until class started. Shuffling into the kitchen, he wandlessly conjured a housecoat and set about making French toast.

He didn't let himself think until after he ate the comforting, sweet food. He cautiously raised a hand to his neck, and flinched at the sting. His finger came away with blood. He conjured a bandage and had to use his bathroom mirror to put it on right. It was still bleeding sluggishly.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Cyrus dressed himself and headed to his only place of respite now that his room had been violated.

The library.

_oOo_

"Whoa. What happened to you?" the librarian TA asked as soon as Cyrus came through the door.

He ignored her, and went straight for the section where he would find 'vampires'. He managed to pull out two books before the TA came and found him.

"No, seriously. What happened to your neck?" Cyrus thought she almost sounded _concerned_.

"None of your goddamn business." He glared at her, and felt a pang of regret at the taken aback look on her face.

It didn't last long. She glared at him and ripped his bandage off in retaliation. He hissed at the pulled hairs and the sudden breeze that irritated his still-bleeding neck. He brought up a hand to protect his injury but didn't get very far when the vampire snatched it mid-air and held it in place. She leaned in uncomfortably close and sniffed. She _sniffed_. Then she made this low-pitched growl in the back of her throat that had Cyrus's hairs standing on end.

"_Asteeeeras_," she hissed. "Only that pathetic lowlife couldn't restrain his breakfast long enough to heal a bite. When I see him next I'm gonna kick his ass."

Cyrus started in surprise. Well, surprise up until the point she started _sucking on his neck_. Then he was just plain pissed. He tried to throw her off him with his magic, but she just wrapped him up in a cocoon of power until he felt like he was suffocating. When she finally pulled back, she was irritable.

"Geez, chill the fuck out. I'm trying to do you a favor and you get all defensive!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "If that bite was left alone, it would've started festering! Vampires have a enzyme in their saliva that prevents clotting until they're done feeding, and a sure sign of a _weak_ vampire is a failed healing of their bite." She spat the word 'weak' like it rotted in her mouth. "Lihmeth Asteras is the little bugger who bit you. He's a third-year crooked fang who couldn't tell which end of a sword to hold if it staked him through the heart. He avoids the library after the last time he got on my bad side…" She growled. "Little fucker thought he didn't have to pay for my services…"

Cyrus remained as still as he could, not wanting to draw her wrath to him, and not wanting her to realize she had been doling him freebees for almost two weeks now. He hadn't paid her back with blood or… the latter option, a single time.

"Haven't you been teaching yourself any decent warding?! I showed you where all of the good books were!"

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "Like I know how to protect against that shadow walk thing you buggers do."

"It's called shadow stepping. Here's a hint: how can a vampire shadow step if there isn't a single shadow in your room?"

Cyrus's mouth froze open.

She rolled her eyes. "Vampires need a shadow that's big enough for their body to fit through. You figure it out from there. If I have to fix one of your bites again, it's _your_ ass I'm gonna kick, capiche wizard?" Without waiting for a response, she walked away.

Cyrus stared after her. He really didn't understand that woman.

_oOo_

The rest of the week moved a little more smoothly. Cyrus rigged a network of wizarding lights that he bought in Gemini Square all over his walls, ceiling, floor, under his bed… everywhere. They were a bit of a pain in the ass to set up because he had to already be in bed when he levitated them to their locations, but it was worth it in the end. Unless they could blow through the strengthening and shield charms all over his walls, door, and window, no vampire was going to get in his room again.

He walked into his Runes class a week before the end of September in good spirits, having finally enjoyed a good night's sleep. With no 'silly wand waving', as Snape would say, in this class, there was little risk of bodily harm. It was hard to make scribblings on paper grow legs and attack you. At the moment this was his most loved and hated class, as he'd been studying ahead for weeks now, and while he liked the way Rivehn taught the material, it was still boring as hell.

"I hope you've been studying the vocabulary and equation sheets I've given you, because you have a test today."

Nobody dared to groan. Rivehn was very soft-spoken for a vampire – but those with an ounce of brain matter didn't let that fool them. Cyrus hadn't actually _seen_ Rivehn tear into someone yet, but he'd heard rumors. From what he'd heard, Rivehn was the oldest vampire alive for a reason, and everyone knew not to fuck with him. Even Kyranes, the Headmistress of the school, apparently adhered to his judgment in matters of vampire politics.

You'd never guess it from the look of him, though. He appeared to the ignorant as nothing but a reserved librarian with a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

A wave of papers were wandlessly sent to each student. "You have the duration of the class to finish the test. The first page is entirely vocabulary, the second is mathematical structures and equations, and the last is a spell deconstruction with more than ten errors in it. You need only find seven errors in order to pass the final question. If you find ten or more, you will be given bonus credit. Any questions?"

No one raised a hand.

"Very well. Please be advised that if you obtain less than 70% on more than two tests in this course, you will be removed from the class and given the option of repeating next year. I do not suffer uninterested students. You may begin." Rivehn waved his hand and the sheets on their desks flipped themselves upright. He sat down behind his desk and pulled out a book.

Cyrus looked down at his test. They had only scratched the surface of the material so far in class, but as he'd been doing his own study, he wasn't sure how he would do on the last question.

Breezing through the first two pages in ten minutes, he finally flipped to the last page. He blinked, and stared. It was 2D flat, and the runes were scrambled and connected improperly, but he swore that it was intended to be a levitation charm. A very butchered levitation charm. It wasn't quite the same as Wingardium Leviosa, but from the similar structure and intention (which was Runes lingo for 'meaning') of the runes, it was quite obvious what it was.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he wondered where to start first.

He was the last person to leave the classroom, which Cyrus personally found hilarious because he was probably the only one there who really knew what he was doing. He'd been toying with the structure for what felt like forever because something was nagging him, and he couldn't figure it out for the life of him. There was something _fundamentally_ _wrong_ with the spell. He knew that if it was cast the way it was written, it wouldn't work properly, but he didn't know how he knew that. It was all quite frustrating. He'd even pulled out a separate piece of paper and scribbled variants all over it. Nothing was clicking.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask for your test, Mr. Obsidian. You are already late for your next class."

Cyrus jerked away from his paper in surprise, coming out of his thoughts to see Rivehn standing two feet away from him. He stared up into the blank, violet eyes for a moment before nodding and jerking his seat backwards. He was reaching for his scrap piece of paper so he could puzzle out the question later when Rivehn pulled it out from under his hand, along with the rest of his test. When he opened his mouth to object, Rivehn raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Do you not have class to attend?"

Cyrus took that as a dismissal and spared one last forlorn look at the paper before rushing from the room. He completely missed the look on Rivehn's face when the vampire examined the scrap paper.

_oOo_

Necromancy class was going well. They were studying the history of necromancers on the side as they learned how to 'tap into' their death magic – something Cyrus had been failing at miserably thus far.

It was right after one of these classes that he spotted him. Lihmeth Asteras, the vampire who had bitten him (according to his librarian friend). He barely recognized him in full colour rather than shadow, but the grin was unmistakable. And the laugh. That alone would have given the cocky bastard away.

He tried to avoid the cluster of vampires entirely, but it wasn't meant to be. Asteras, spotting him or sniffing him out Cyrus didn't know, was quick to show off in front of his posse.

"Would you look at that! It's that human I was talking about last week. I've been itching for another taste."

When Cyrus tried to slip around the throng, he was expertly boxed in by sneering faces. He didn't even have to pull his wand out of his pocket, as it materialized in his hand as soon as he finished thinking about it. A wave of taunting noises murmured through the group. Looking around, he deduced there were seven vampires total, and then a couple onlookers of unknown heritage. Somehow, he doubted he could take them all.

"Ah, poor thing. He's terrified of us."

Cyrus froze. The voice had come from right behind him. Before he could move, iron-strong arms wrapped around his chest and locked his arms in place. The bastard must have come out from Cyrus's _shadow_.

"What say you to a little taste? I have truly been craving your unique, sweet flavor." Cyrus's mind raced, but he couldn't _think_ as the fangs sank into his neck again. His nerve endings couldn't decide whether the electrical pulses going to his brain were pain or pleasure, and he sagged for a moment against the vampire's body.

A raging hard-on poked him in the ass as he shifted, and the vampire started gyrating against him. Instead of making him embarrassed or uncomfortable, he felt downright _angry_. Who did this fucker think he was? Not only had he sunk his fangs in Cyrus's neck, he was going to get off on him too?! Fury fueling his body, he charged a large dose of magic into his hand and grabbed the thing poking into his back. The vampire let out a groan of pleasure that quickly turned into a screech of agony as Cyrus _squeezed_ with his magically charged hand. He imagined his magic was quite prickly with his displeasure. The vampire ripped his mouth away from Cyrus's neck in agony.

"Let go of me or I'll light your dick on fire, you prick." Cyrus felt sick pleasure at the sight of the vampires backing away from him with wary looks on their faces. Asteras was breathing heavily behind him. The arms let him go, and Cyrus took a step away and met the eyes of the vampire behind him. Icy gray eyes were watching him frantically. "Don't come near me again, or I _will_ melt your balls into a mass of scar tissue." He spoke slowly and clearly, as if talking to a child. "Do we have an understanding?"

Asteras glared at him. Cyrus was so not in the mood for a pissing match. He could feel the blood dripping down his neck and into his clothes.

"I believe you do. Is that not right, Mr. Asteras?"

Gray eyes widened in genuine terror and flickered over to the side. Cyrus followed their direction and froze at the sight of _Rivehn_, of all people – er, vampires.

"B-but, sir-"

"You have forfeit your right to drink of this human, Mr. Asteras. Two failed drinkings in less than a week." There was no change in the inflection of the vampire's voice, but every person in the corridor was on edge. "If you cannot restrain your prey, or find a willing donor, perhaps you should go in search of a muggle."

Several gasps echoed in the sudden silence. Cyrus turned to Asteras's face and watched with morbid curiosity as it turned a deep red – from anger or embarrassment Cyrus had no idea.

"Release him, Mr. Obsidian, and come here. He will not attempt to drink of you again." Cyrus stared at him in confusion. When the eyes narrowed slightly, the tension in the room jumped up a few notches. He released Asteras anxiously, keeping a suspicious eye on the vampires around him as he made his way over to Rivehn. He felt some sort of wave gently brush against his shielded mind, and all the vampires in the hallway vanished into the shadows. Was this that vampiric telepathy the books talked about? And why did his Runes professor want him to come to him?

When he was a few feet away from Rivehn, the vampire reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Eyes wide, he had no choice but to move as the hand pulled him within a foot of the ancient. He could feel his body shaking as Rivehn bent down towards his neck. Wide green eyes met glowing violet before the vampire's face was in the crook of his neck, sinking his fangs into the still-weeping bite. There was no confusion of pain or pleasure with _this _bite. Sheer ecstasy burst from his shoulder and spread to every corner of his body. He felt his magic _hum_ under his skin, stretching and following the waves of pleasure like a cat languishing under a ray of sunshine.

Rivehn pulled back from his neck with a gentle lick that sent shivers of after-shock down Cyrus's spine. He was absolutely _horrified_ to discover his pants were sticky with come when he shifted nervously. Quickly casting a wandless cleaning charm, he felt his face turn what felt like twenty shades of red. After Asteras's first attack on him, he'd been reading about vampire culture, and thus their bite. All vampires had an anticoagulant in their saliva, as well as an aphrodisiac. Apparently they were survival traits. Cyrus just hadn't believed the texts when they said that a bite from an _experienced_ vampire could be so… orgasmic.

His Runes professor didn't twitch from his normal blank expression, but Cyrus _swore_ that the swirling violet in his eyes was _some _kind of emotion. He just didn't want to know which one.

"Now that your wound is healed, please follow me to the Headmistress Kyranes's office. We have something to discuss." He turned and walked away, not waiting for a response. Of course, it wasn't like Cyrus could say 'no', so he quietly followed after the vampire, nerves on fire and mind a swirling chaos of confusion.

The trip through the hallways was quiet and short. Most of the after-class bustle had disappeared during the altercation with Asteras. The school wasn't as big as Hogwarts, after all, and the space was used in its entirety. They were probably all at the Main Hall, eating dinner.

He recognized the office when they stopped in front of it. He had absolutely no idea why Rivehn would want him to be there when he talked to the Headmistress.

Rivehn walked in without knocking, and Kyranes didn't look surprised to see him. "What can I do for you, Rivehn?"

When Cyrus carefully slipped into the room, he almost jumped when the door closed behind him.

"I would like Mr. Obsidian transferred to my second year Runes class effective immediately."

Cyrus imagined that if he'd had a mirror handy, the gaping look on his face would be quite amusing to see.

Kyranes raised an eyebrow. "Really? And why have you decided this?"

Rivehn reached into his robes (most of the older vampires wore robes – whether it was tradition or they fought well enough without their movements impeded, Cyrus had no idea) and pulled out some paper. When he placed it on Kyranes's desk, Cyrus started in surprise. There was his scrap of paper! "The student in question has displayed a higher level of comprehension and analysis than most of my second year Runes students. First year Runes is for the curious. It would be a waste to subject him to such a juvenile setting for the entirety of a year."

Kyranes picked up his paper and looked over it. She turned red eyes on Cyrus. "Tell me, Mr. Obsidian, what were you trying to do with this equation?"

His mouth froze open for a moment before he could shake off his paralysis. "I… uh… I was just trying to figure something out." When Kyranes raised a 'no, really?' eyebrow at him, he continued nervously. "I, well, Professor Rivehn gave us a test today in class and told us to find seven mistakes in a structure. When I finished answering the question something about it was bothering me, so I tried to figure out why it wouldn't work."

"What do you mean by 'why it wouldn't work'?" Kyranes asked, turning her eyes back to his scribblings.

Cyrus floundered for a moment. How was he supposed to explain how he just _knew_ that the way the spell was it couldn't levitate a dust cloud- Wait. His eyes widened as it _clicked_. He knew why it wouldn't work. Single-mindedly, he strode up to the desk and grabbed the paper and snatched a pencil (god was he glad they weren't into quills and parchment at Shikaan. Useful muggle inventions should be _used_) from a mug on the desk. Scanning the mess for the structure that he found the most logical, he erased a few things before rewriting them with a new string of runes.

"There," he said contently, eyeing his handiwork. "Much better." Then he realized just how that might have looked. He took a few steps away from Kyranes's desk and kept his eyes down. "Er, sorry about that. I just, um, figured out what was bothering me earlier."

When he chanced a glance upwards, Kyranes didn't exactly look _angry_, per say. The corner of her mouth twitched. "Please, do tell."

Realizing that in taking a step away from Kyranes he had put himself closer to Rivehn, he took another step to the side. How much space did ancient vampires consider respectful? "The levitation spell. It didn't have a limit on it." When Kyranes stared at him, he could feel blood rushing to his face. "That is, the equations took into consideration everything but the measurement of mass. The heavier an object is that you try to levitate, the more energy it takes. There was no limit to how much weight the spell was designed to take, so the spell would have automatically defaulted to no weight and utterly defeated the purpose of its own existence." He blushed. God he sounded like Hermione… how embarrassing.

Rivehn raised an eyebrow at Kyranes. She smiled.

"I'll have him transferred."

_-Toki Mirage-_

Er, yeah. That took a while. I got stuck on that one for three months. And university life is busy, besides. The only reason I finished this chapter is because I'm procrastinating. I don't want to start my Music History Paper… ugh.

I hope you like how the chapter turned out! I finished it last night and reread this morning, and I happen to really like it! I hope you do too. Once I got going, I was on a run. (winks) Unfortunately, I can't tell you when the next one will be coming out. By now you guys know how unreliable I am.

Time to go eat some lunch.


	6. Chapter Six: New Friends, New Enemies

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Six:

_oOo_

"Your classes sound very… interesting."

Cyrus suppressed a sound that could have been a laugh, and just as easily a choke. Either Remus was a master of understatements, or he really didn't know what to say. Cyrus was betting on the latter. He'd been both looking forward to coming 'home' at the end of September and positively dreading it. For the past month he'd somehow managed to survive Shikaan (he couldn't go to Spinner's End because his past self was still there learning Occlumency), and now that he had the opportunity to ditch, he wasn't entirely sure that it even registered as an _option_ in his mind anymore. Shikaan was… well. It wasn't something he could easily describe. Halfway between hell and the Hermione-playground of the century.

"Do you like it there?"

Loaded question.

"Well… The teachers are amazing. I mean, some of them are real hard, but they all know what they're talking about and can _teach_ – which is more than I can say for most of the DADA teachers at Hogwarts." He paused, thinking for a moment. "A lot of it is very hands-on, which I like. I never particularly liked essay writing… I love the course material, too. Aside from the core classes, we get to choose whatever direction – magically – that we want to go." Cyrus stared down into his half-empty cup of tea.

He nearly jumped when Remus put a hand on his shoulder. "We can always find you another school, Cyrus. Don't think that this is the only option available to you." His brow furrowed, liquid amber eyes swirling with mixed emotion. "Do you _like_ it there?"

Cyrus stared back down at his teacup. "It's not that I don't like it, or that I like it. It's _necessary_ if I'm going to survive this war. That 'choice' you're talking about is an illusion. I never had a choice."

"How very morbid, Obsidian."

Cyrus suppressed a jump and looked towards the source of the voice. Damn that vampire stillness. He needed to find a way to detect these blood-suckers unless he wanted to get mauled in the toilet. "Hello, Snape."

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "I take it Remus is trying persuade your education in sheltered directions?"

Said werewolf actually _growled_ at Snape, who was entirely unaffected.

Cyrus turned back to his tea. He was here on a weekend, but it didn't really feel like one. With the amount of homework he had to do, he'd be lucky to get in extra time for private study. Second year Runes class was taking up what felt like all of his_ time_. He was grateful and despondent about the class change at the same time because he had nine bloody months of the course to learn, not including the month he'd missed of September. Every time he had a stupid answer in class, or nearly flunked one of the tests he would feel the eyes of the senior students. Assessing. Taking notice. Exactly what he _didn't_ want to happen. It was only a matter of time before _another_ vampire decided that he'd make an excellent snack. And even though that Asteras guy couldn't drink his blood because of Rivehn, that didn't mean he couldn't try to get _revenge_. Ugh. What a clusterfuck.

"Cyrus?"

He blinked and his eyes focused on the tea in his hands, which was currently imitating a tornado a foot above his glass. He wandlessly banished the cold tea and poured himself another cup.

"I'm going to be eaten alive before Christmas, Remus. Does that answer your bloody question?" He stirred the sugar into his tea with a spoon, wanting to give his hands something to do. The two adults were silent. He blew and took a sip.

"Are you going to give up so easily, Obsidian?"

Cyrus ignored the caustic remark. He wasn't giving up. It was just an eventuality.

Snape sat down in an adjacent armchair. "If I didn't believe you could survive it, I would never have enrolled you in Shikaan, Cyrus. And if you ever need a safe haven for a couple hours, or days, you are always welcome here. Shikaan doesn't allow its students to live off campus permanently, but you are free to visit any time."

Cyrus nodded, and glared at his shaking hands for betraying him.

"You were attacked, were you not?"

Remus sucked in a breath across from him. Cyrus debated answering for a moment, before nodding his head slightly.

"You have a couple options before you, Cyrus. It will be impossible for you to fight off all the senior students at this level in your education, and as you have a penchant for trouble it is impossible for you to hide in the shadows. One, you can let the vampires feed from you. Most will not be out to kill you, as you are a food supply and not a threat at this point. Only fight off the ones who want _more_ than just a bite."

Cyrus gripped the cup in his hand tightly. "I don't _want_ them to feed on me. If I let it happen, then it'll set a precedent, and they'll never stop coming after me!"

"You must pick your battles, Cyrus. You can't fight them all. After you fight one vampire, and you are weakened, another will take their place."

Cyrus watched his tea swirling in his cup. He managed to reign in his magic, but just barely. He _loathed _feeling helpless. "You said 'one'. Are there other options?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "If you had refrained from your burst of irrationality, I would have continued." Cyrus wisely kept his mouth shut. "_Two_, you can become a donor to a vampire high on the food chain. If they accept you as a donor, you will be their territory and they will fight off other vampires trying to feed from you. However, you must keep in mind that enticing a higher vampire to accept you as a donor is not easy – and it comes with a price. It is a burden for a high ranking vampire to stake and retain a donor's claim on a human, and unless you manage to convince the vampire that it is worth the trouble, whether it be by bribing or some other method of payment, he or she will reject your request."

And how exactly was he supposed to bribe a vampire?! They already got blood out of the agreement, what else was there to give?

"Remember, Cyrus. We can always transfer you to another school," Remus pitched in hopefully.

The human ran a frustrated hand through his dirty blond hair and leaned back in his chair. He didn't want to leave his classes, but he wanted to leave the student population. Until he could actually fight, he was at the mercy of others. The whole point of going to Shikaan was to feel _more_ in control of his 'destiny', but he was just feeling more depressed.

"I know that the Wizarding World has forced the responsibility of defeating Voldemort on you, Cyrus, but I want you to know that we're here for you whenever you need us." Remus smiled.

Cyrus closed his eyes. But Remus didn't know about the prophecy. He looked up at Snape, and found neither pity nor spite, just a blank, neutral expression. Suppressing a sigh, he decided to just enjoy the peace while he could. He doubted whether he had a choice in fighting Voldemort or not, but he _did_ have every intention of surviving the coming war. Moldywarts would come knocking eventually. Until then, he would prepare himself the best he could.

_oOo_

"Please send your homework assignment to the front, and we will begin class." Rivehn's voice lilted through the classroom.

Cyrus wandlessly floated his over, like everyone else. One of the first things that made it obvious what kind of year difference he was experiencing was the level of sheer expectation. Rivehn _expected_, if you'd made it this far, that you were in the course because you were going to do the work. Cyrus, of course, had no problems with doing the work, but doing it perfectly was out of the question. The gaps in his knowledge tripped him up on every assignment, on every question asked of him in class. Rivehn didn't draw any unwarranted attention to Cyrus – he didn't play favourites – but somehow half the class managed to hate him. The other half just didn't give a rat's ass.

"To begin today's class, I'd like to draw your attention to the homework assignment from last class that I asked you to correct. I found the majority of the class got the second question wrong. Has anyone figured out their mistake since last class?"

There was a shuffling of papers as students searched for their homework and pulled it out. Cyrus found his quickly and frowned down at the sheet. He'd gotten something wrong with _every_ question_ except _that one. He'd managed to figure out most of the mistakes (they'd been stupid things: like forgetting the energy regulation rune in the nexus that controlled the spell execution, or making 'spelling' mistakes), but a few of the structural ones still confused him. He'd found the second question the easiest.

"When creating or fixing other spells you must remember that _logic_ will always overrule the textbook. The books I have provided for you are merely there to give you the tools you need to understand why the spells work, not to be the unbroken rule. If spell creators always followed the rules, there wouldn't be new spells. Often it is a mistake that leads to something unexpected, but more often than success it leads to your death. Or somebody else's." He eyed the classroom. "Has anybody solved their mistake?"

The class was, once again, stubbornly silent. Rivehn waved a hand at the black board and a map of equations appeared. "This is the mistake 88% of the class made that would have vaporized the user in less than a second." Finally, this got a reaction. "Three students got this question right. You know who you are. Can a volunteer please explain to the rest of the class the intended purpose of the equation and what is glaringly wrong with this one." He gestured emphatically at the board. When no one immediately volunteered, his eyes narrowed. "Very well. Hetrianus, would you do the honours?" It wasn't a question.

A nervous student close to the front stood up. "Umm… Well, the spell was intended to be a warming charm used most often in the kitchen, sir." He paused, uncertain. "I'm afraid I don't know what is wrong with the equation." When Rivehn nodded, accepting the answer, the student quickly sat down.

"Thank you. Marclair? Obsidian? Care to answer the rest of the question?"

When Marclair appeared reticent, Cyrus slowly stood. Rivehn stared at him expectantly. "The… there's no limiter, sir." Rivehn's lips twitched. "Also, the execution runes are faulty for this kind of spell. This particular variation should only be used with spells that require a slight feedback of energy into the spell in order to execute. With the feedback loop of energy, as well as the lack of a limiter, it wouldn't take very long for the spell to burn out and explode. The more powerful the user, the more spectacular the explosion. Sir." Cyrus quickly sat down, ignoring the looks he received from some of the students.

"Well done, Mr. Obsidian. You are correct. For those who failed this question, I want 500 words on execution segments and the subtle variances in type, along with the completed corrections for next class. Now, on with today's lesson…"

It was another grueling 40 minutes in Runes class before they were finally released for the day. Cyrus had managed to make a fool of himself when they'd been divided into teams to decode harder questions than the previous homework assignment. How was he supposed to know what a vocarian link was? The demon he'd been paired with hadn't needed to be such a fucking bitch about it, too. Cyrus had been inches away from casting a skin-peeling curse at her.

"Psst."

Cyrus blinked and glanced around. A hand tapped his shoulder, and he spun around with a blasting curse broiling beneath his skin. At the sight of such a sheepish, hopeless expression, however, he couldn't let the curse loose and reabsorbed it into his magic channels.

"Yes?"

A nervous hand scratched at the back of a vibrant orange head. "Ah, well, I uh… I was wondering… ifyoucouldhelpmewiththeruneshomework."

Cyrus stared at him, uncomprehending. "Excuse me?"

The student did a full body twitch. "I, uh, was wondering if you could help me with the Runes homework. Everyone knows that you're the best runes-logic guy, and I'm really just trying to get by in this class so I can go into ward testing."

Green eyes blinked. "In case you hadn't noticed, I don't even know what a fucking vocarian link is. How am I supposed to help _you_ with _your_ Runes homework?"

Amber eyes narrowed, and the student let out a nervous laugh. "Well, I thought that, since I suck so much at the logic of runes, and you don't know what we've already covered in the course, I could help you out. I may suck at understanding the crap, but I make up for it with good note taking." He grinned, showing off pointy canines. "Whaddya say?"

Cyrus stared. He'd never expected _this_. I scratch your back you scratch mine? He'd been under the impression no one particularly liked him. But then again, you didn't need to like someone in order to work with them. And who was he to turn down a perfectly good offer at someone helping him catch up all the stuff he'd missed? Often they didn't work through the textbook in order, so it was hard to know what he was already supposed to know.

"You're serious? You actually want to help each other out?"

The orange-haired werewolf (Cyrus _assumed_ that he was one) grinned and held out a hand. "You betcha. Deal?"

Cyrus actually smiled a bit. He shook the proffered hand. "Deal."

"Great! I only have one other course today, and it's this next period. Are you free after that?"

"Er, no. I have Necromancy and then Animagus after. I'm free after that, though. Do you want to meet in the library?" The library was pretty neutral ground. The TA wouldn't have it any other way. Cyrus suppressed his amusement at that thought.

"Sure thing! I'll make sure to bring all my notes." Grinning like a lunatic, the ball of orange hair bounced out of the room. Cyrus just stared after him, bewildered.

_oOo_

"Hey, human."

Cyrus's lip twitched. "Hey, vampire."

The TA smirked, flashing fang. "Anything in particular you're looking for today?"

Cyrus shook his head. "No. Just meeting somebody."

A black eyebrow rose in surprise. "Really now. Do I know this person?"

Opening his mouth to answer, Cyrus pulled up short. He didn't even know the werewolf's name. "Um, really orange hair?"

Dark red eyes lit up in amusement. "Ooooh, Xanthir? That guy's a total riot. If you wanna spar, or you're looking for the best human world night club to crash, he's the Were! He sucks at academics, though. More of a doer than a thinker. Don't let him rope you into doing all his homework! Mutual assistance is good and all, but don't let him get the sweeter side of the pie. He'll push till he knows the boundaries. A lot of werewolves are like that, actually…"

Cyrus smiled. "Thanks for the advice. He's going to help me get caught up in Runes class. Supposedly he takes good notes."

The vampire grinned. "Oh yeah. He's well aware of his ineptitudes. He takes notes to try and compensate. It works some of the time, but if you just don't get a concept, no matter how long you stare at a sheet of paper it doesn't make any more sense to you, ya know?"

Cyrus grinned. "Sounds like Potions."

She laughed.

"Hope you aren't saying bad things about me, Tara!" a familiar voice called from the entrance to the library.

"Xanthir! What have I said about being quiet in the library!" Cyrus noticed many shakes of the head from students studying at various tables around the room. After all, the librarian, Tara apparently, had just shouted louder than Xanthir.

"Tara, my love! You wound me!" The werewolf gripped his chest, eyes closed in agony as he continued walking towards them.

"Keep your filthy paws to yourself, you dog."

Xanthir just grinned and sprawled against the counter. "Yo, Obsidian. Ready to start some learnin'?"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. He didn't even have time to answer before Tara was on the Were's case again.

"_Really_, Xanth, the poor addled human didn't even know your _name_. What the hell kinda manners you got, anyway?" She whapped him over the side of the head, and Cyrus would bet his family fortune that the same hit would have snapped his own neck. He also found it amusing that she was berating Xanthir about _manners_, when she'd never told Cyrus _her_ name.

"Ruff ruff." Xanthir batted amber eyes at Tara in a pathetic parody of flirtation. "Sorry, hun." He turned to Cyrus with a grin, now completely ignoring Tara. He stuck out his hand, again. "The name's Xanthir Adelphos. Call me Xanthir, or you'll find out why I'm the best in second year W&B."

Cyrus grinned and shook the hand. "Cyrus Obsidian, though it seems you already knew my name. You can call me Cyrus or Obsidian, doesn't really matter to me."

"Cool. Cyrus it is then." He held out his fist, and Cyrus just stared. "C'mon, man. Ya gotta pound it." He moved the fist forward slightly in a mock punch movement. "Love tap." Cyrus gently touched a fist to Xanthir's and got a million watt smile. "Alright! Let's get some learnin' done!"

Cyrus's lips quirked in amusement as Xanthir led them to a far corner of the library. The werewolf dropped his book bag down on the table without a care for the loud 'thump' it produced. Luckily, there were no disturbed students around to glare at them. When the Were started pulling down seemingly random books from the shelves, Cyrus raised an eyebrow.

"All the good Runes books are hidden with the not so great ones. I don't know why Rivehn lets the Librarian keep 'em here, but some of the titles he's actually told us _never_ to touch cuz they suck that bad." Sharp canines flashed through a wide grin. "Since I wanna go into ward testin', I usually look at the most useful ones durin' my free time."

Cyrus picked up a random book and started rifling through it. His eyebrows rose in surprise. Some of the stuff in here was pretty good. This particular book was about the analysis of spell structure. It went into depth discussing the differences between structures (groupings of runes that could be independent of the overall system, or function, of a spell) and systems (the skeleton of a spell that determined its function and execution). Why did the spell work the way it did, and how you could tweak it to either add extensions to its execution or make it blow up in your face. From what the book was telling him, you could add an extension like a heating structure to a stasis spell meant to freeze potions by stopping the ingredient's chemical reactions with one another and voila: instant dinner stasis charm, for when your guests are late by an hour and you want the food to stay fresh.

"What's ward testing?" Cyrus asked when he came back to the real world.

"'Xactly what is sounds like. There're a bunch of people out there that specialize in tearin' down wards instead of buildin' 'em. There's ward craftin', and then ward testin' goes side 'long with it." He cheerfully plonked himself down in the seat across from Cyrus. "I like blowin' shit up, so this'd be a pretty cool job for me. Since you seem to be a natural at it, I figured you must have some kinda insight that I don't."

Cyrus hid a smile. Oh yeah, he definitely had in_sight_.

"The hardest part o' ward stuff is that we can't actually _see_ the rune chains once they're complete. From what I've read about crafting, you build each rune by hand, string 'em together, and when you're done the ward vanishes and becomes invisible to our eyesight. Ward testers have to get a real good sense of the wards _after_ they've already vanished. From what I've read, it's kinda like how a blind person reads brail with their fingers. Some people are good at doin' it real fast, and others take a long time." He grinned. "I seen Rivehn map out a large spell system like an animatin' transfiguration in less than two seconds. My Uncle woulda taken an hour, at least!

"So, in some ways it's harder to be a tester than a crafter, but at the same time, craftin' takes so much _knowledge_. With testin', you just need to get a feel for poking holes, and hope that the crafter wasn't smart enough to build traps into the wards."

Blond eyebrows rose. "Really? You can do that? Is that kind of like the extensions that this book talks about?"

Xanthir grinned. "Totally! That's Midna Danver's book. It's a little complicated for our year, but she's never wrong, man! Like she talks about in that book, some of the top ward crafters out there build the nastiest curses into the things. I saw a man get flayed alive, once. He was my Uncle's 'prentice. He wouldn't listen to the old man, so… That's why I'm studyin' wards here. I wanna 'prentice under my Uncle when I graduate."

"Really? How good _is_ your uncle?"

"Well, he's never joined the Ward Testers' Guild, doesn't believe in that shit, he says. But he's been in the business for a long time, and he's still alive, so… S'pretty impressive. I could learn a lot from him." The werewolf nervously ran a hand through is spikey hair. "'Nough 'bout me, what about you? What do you wanna do once you graduate?"

Cyrus blinked, then frowned. All he'd been focusing on was staying alive. He'd never really thought of what kind of _job_ he wanted to go into. "I dunno really. I'm trying to expand my abilities for now."

Xanthir raised an incredulous eyebrow. "C'mon, man. There's gotta be _something_ you got dreams about? You're really good at runes! Why not go into that?"

Cyrus shrugged. "We'll see. How about getting started? How about I read and copy your notes and we trade questions whenever we get stuck?"

The Were grinned. "Sure thing, man." He reached into his bag, pulled out a huge binder, and dropped it onto the desk. The bang echoed in the library. "How 'bout we start with October's notes?"

Cyrus stared.

_oOo_

Two hours later, Cyrus tiredly leaned back in his chair, two months worth of runes notes crammed into his cranium, and all of his Runes homework finished for the day. The October and November notes from last year had already helped him _immensely,_ filling in the gaps of the stuff he had already studied. Because of the review, he was pretty sure he aced two questions that he would have nearly flunked two hours earlier. Xanthir had pouted when he'd finished the homework in a third of the time it took the werewolf.

"Hey, man, whaddya say to gettin' a bite to eat?"

Cyrus blinked in surprise, then smiled. The werewolf actually wanted to hang out with him? "Sure thing."

Amber eyes closed in a happy grin. "Sweet! I hope they have steak tonight, I'm sick of eatin' all that friggin' chicken. I _hate_ chicken."

Cyrus was about to agree with a grin when a snide voice interrupted.

"Wow, Xanthir. I had no idea you would actually sink this _low_."

The werewolf's eyes brightened to gold, and his mouth pulled down at the corners as he turned to look behind them. "Dalesh."

Cyrus turned around too, eyeing the possible threat warily, a stupefy already swirling beneath his skin.

'Dalesh' smirked darkly, black eyes beginning to glow a midnight blue. "Really, Xanthir. I know you suck at Runes, but to ask a _human?_ You must be desperate."

Golden eyes narrowed angrily. "You're just jealous that he's better at Runes than you. Besides, aren't you the one that suggested it? _You_ wouldn't help, so I asked the smartest in our class instead." He smirked derisively. "I guess I just have higher standards than you."

Midnight blue eyes narrowed, and a growl echoed through the quiet hallway. It was empty except for Dalesh and the two girls behind him. The black-haired beauty stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Dalesh's left arm. "C'mon, Desh, darling," she simpered, "These two ruffians are hardly worth taunting, no?" She stood on her toes and nuzzled his neck, running a tongue along his carotid artery.

He pulled away from her, not paying any attention to her ministrations. She turned a harsh glare on Cyrus, as if blaming him for distracting her 'Desh'. He scowled right back at her.

"He's hardly the smartest in our class, Xanthir. He's so far behind he'll never catch up." Dalesh sneered.

Xanthir smirked. "He learned two months worth of material in an hour and a half, 'Desh'," he mocked. Cyrus glanced at him when the werewolf failed to mention that Cyrus had already learned half the material just from his extra-curricular studying during September.

Dalesh raised an eyebrow, but the twitch of his eye belied his anger. "Really, now? I doubt that."

The red-haired woman on Dalesh's other side slithered up behind him and slid her hands under his shirt. "Come on, Desh. I'm hungry. Can't you taunt the pathetic wolf another time?"

Midnight eyes flickered to hers for a second before turning on Cyrus. A slow smirk spread across the student's face. "Why don't we eat right here?" Before Cyrus could even twitch, Dalesh had him pinned to the wall. He tried to let loose the stupefy still burning below his skin, but some sort of energy wrapped around him and stifled his magic, just like Tara had when she'd healed Asteras's first bite. Panic stirred his magic into a frenzy, but it couldn't push past the thick molasses that was suffocating him. Green eyes met midnight blue for a moment before fangs sank into his neck.

Dalesh was certainly more skilled than Asteras. Cyrus gasped as blood rushed to his groin, leaving very little left to supply both his brain and Dalesh's hunger. His vision began to blur, and adrenaline and fear tried to push the pleasurable haze out of his mind so he could defend himself. His heart, beating faster and faster, vainly ended up pushing more blood into Dalesh's mouth than Cyrus's brain, and slowly the world began to darken around him until he passed out.

_oOo_

"...rus?"

Cyrus came out of his haze to feel a vial put to his lips, but he stubbornly kept his mouth shut.

"C'mon, man. It's just a blood replenisher. Drink it before you pass out again."

Green eyes opened grudgingly, and he hissed at the bright light that sent reverberations of pain through his skull, quickly closing his lids again. The vial was stuck in his mouth, and before he could do anything, a nasty potion spread across his tongue. A hand pinched his nose, so he had to swallow if he wanted to breath. He considered not breathing, but ended up just swallowing the damn potion. He instantly felt better, and reconciled with himself that he had probably not just been poisoned.

"That better?"

Cyrus grumbled and brought a hand to his forehead to massage his temples. "Did anyone catch the name of the guy that sicced a hippogriff on me?"

A familiar voice laughed, and Cyrus finally opened his eyes again, relieved that it didn't hurt as much as last time. Xanthir was kneeling on the ground next to him, an empty vial in his hand. "Dalesh."

"Who?"

Xanthir wouldn't meet his eyes. "Dalesh. He drank too much blood, that's why you needed a potion. You've been unconscious for about ten minutes."

Cyrus's eyes snapped wide. "What?! He- that- fucking vampires!" Angrily, he pushed himself off the floor and brought a hand to his neck. It was a little tender, but there were no teeth marks or blood. "And what were you doing while he nearly sucked me dry?!"

Xanthir still wouldn't look at him. "His whores held me back. Prevented me from helping." He growled softly under his breath, eyes burning gold. "I wouldn't have been able to stop him, anyway. He may be in our class, but he's a fourth year. He's planning on staying for the full six years allowed, too, so we won't be rid of him for a while. He was the best in Runes until you came along. He's quite irritated that someone else managed to garner Rivehn's attention. He's planning on asking Rivehn to take him on as an apprentice once he graduates with full honours."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like an insufferable git, if you ask me."

Xanthir met his eyes in surprise for a second before he burst into laughter. It was an odd mixture of what Cyrus would imagine a canine's laugh would sound like and a human's. Cyrus caught himself relaxing. "I completely agree, man. He's way too full of himself." He grinned, flashing sharp canines. "Wanna go get that bite to eat now?" He stood and held out a hand.

Cyrus gripped it, and the werewolf pulled him up with ease. "Sounds good. I need some time to plot the demise of this vampire."

Xanthir grinned even wider. "Oooh, can I help?"

Cyrus smirked, rubbing at his neck. "Sure."

_oOo_

"You wanna WHAT?!"

Cyrus cringed and resisted the urge to cover his ears. Apparently Xanthir and Tara were childhood friends or something, because before they even went to dinner the werewolf had dragged him back to the library to share their budding plot with the vampire. Cyrus would have stupefied him if he'd know the Were's intentions. He was bloody hungry.

Xanthir covered his ears with both hands. Cyrus cast a wandless silencing charm around them when he noticed all the evil looks from studying students. "Aaaw, c'mooon, Tara. I know you've been wantin' to wipe the floor with him for months, he just hasn't given you a good enough excuse yet."

She raised a dubious eyebrow. "Yeah, I hate the little fucker's attitude, but I ain't gonna pick a fight with him if there's nothing in it for me!"

Xanthir bit his pouting lip for a second before his eyes brightened with some ingenious idea. Cyrus was wondering if it wouldn't be better to just stun the werewolf and be done with it, before something… unfortunate occurred. "Well, why don't you claim donors rights on Cyrus?! That way Cyrus won't get fed on anymore, and you'll have an excuse to kick Dalesh's ass!"

Cyrus stared at the wolf. When he'd brought Xanthir in on his plans concerning Dalesh's demise, he certainly hadn't intended for the conversation to go in _this_ direction. The Were hadn't even asked Cyrus for _his_ thoughts on the matter! What if he didn't want to be Tara's bitch?

Tara glared at him. "You're not that smart, dog. Why would I even want to help you? Besides, I've been letting this little bugger skive off paying for my services for a while now. I could just make him pay up if blood was what I wanted."

Cyrus's mind flashed back to his conversation with Snape earlier that week. The vampire _had_ mentioned that becoming a donor could be useful. He'd also mentioned that a powerful one would want something _else_ in exchange. He'd been completely serious. He wanted to smack Xanthir over the head for not asking Cyrus first, but being Tara's donor could solve some of his problems.

Xanthir blinked at her dubiously. "Why wouldn't you want blood?"

She rolled her eyes. "I already have a network of donors set up, you moron. Why would I need to take on such a troublesome human? Everyone's been clamoring about getting a nip of the guy. Apparently he doesn't have many friends. Easy pickings."

Xanthir flashed puppy dog eyes at her. "Cuz it would hurt my feelings if you don't?"

She bashed him over the head, sending him crashing right into the ground. "That was for being stupid." Since Xanthir was on the ground, he didn't see her small, affectionate smile.

"What would sweeten the deal?" Cyrus asked, deciding to take control of the situation.

She stared at him thoughtfully, running her eyes up and down his form. "Virgins aren't really all that good in bed," was the first thing to come out of her mouth. Cyrus felt his cheeks burn. She smirked evilly at him. "You're blood is tasty, but not tasty enough for all the shit I'd get from everyone else on campus. You'll have to sweeten the pot." She raised an eyebrow. "What else do you have to offer in exchange for the honor and protection of being my donor?"

Cyrus ruthlessly bit his lip. His mind flashed back to the conversation he'd had with Snape earlier that week. The vampire _had_ said there were only two ways to not get eaten alive at Shikaan. Become a donor to a powerful, ass-kicking vampire, or become powerful enough to kick everyone's ass himself. He opened his mouth to say he had nothing to offer when he stopped himself short. What did every librarian love? Books. What did every librarian want more of? Books. That was something he had to offer. He was pretty sure among all the dusty tomes he had taken from the Potter Family Vaults, there was _something_ she hadn't read before. Quite a few of them had been very old. "Unlimited access to my personal library during the time I am your donor."

Her eyes narrowed derisively. "Really? And what books do you have that I haven't read?"

Cyrus smirked. "They're from the collection of a very old and powerful wizarding family. I seriously _doubt_ you've read them all."

Her dark red eyes flashed in curiosity. She mulled over this for almost a complete minute before finally coming to a decision. "One condition. I wanna see the library before I agree to anything."

Cyrus nodded. "No problem."

Tara hopped over the counter and walked up to a seemingly random student studying at a table. "Jamis. I'm leaving for a little while, and I want you to fill in for me."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Fine. But you owe me three hours with that copy of _Darkest Devils of the Age_ you've been taunting me with."

"Deal. I'll see you in a bit." She turned to Cyrus and sharply motioned with her hand for him and Xanthir to follow. Cyrus obeyed, amused. Did she know where his room was? Or did she just like being in front?

It didn't take them long to get to his rooms. He unlocked his pitiful wards as they entered, and locked them again behind them. Walking over to the trunk at the foot of his bed, he placed a hand on it and commanded it to open. The square lid flipped open, revealing a ladder and a dark pit.

Cyrus began climbing down the ladder, grinning at the look of awe on Xanthir's face. Tara ran her hands along the trunk. "Your family must have been pretty old and powerful. This trunk could sell for 20,000 galleons on the black market, if you could get it to open for anybody outside the family. The enchantments on it are unreal. It won't let anything be removed unless it's by the owner."

Cyrus smiled and wandlessly formed balls of light to follow him down into his library. He had known that the trunk was pretty neat, but he hadn't know that it was _that_ cool. It made him feel better to know that someone couldn't just come and steal all his books.

When Tara jumped down after him, he stumbled back to avoid being hit. Xanthir followed quickly after. He watched nervously as she stared around, her eyes slowly lighting up with delight. "Oh my god!!" she squealed, running to the closest bookshelf. "You have an original, _signed_ copy of _Darkest Be Thy Pleasures_!! Do you have any idea how much you could sell that book on the black market for?! There are only four left in existence, five now, with this one!" She reverently pulled the book off the shelf and let it fall open. "No deterioration, no dust. Whoever maintained this library was serious about keeping the charms on the books in good condition. I'd say they've been recast by a very powerful witch or wizard in the last twenty years, and they'll last for another good hundred."

Cyrus blinked to clear his eyes. It had probably been his mother who had recharmed all the books. He'd been told she could have been a Charms Mistress.

Before he could let the dreary thoughts drag him down, Tara was in his face with a huge grin on her face, petite fangs extended in her excitement. "You have a deal, Obsidian! I get full access to this library for as long as you're my donor! And in return, I'll keep all the other vampires less powerful than me off your back. Generally the older vampires respect donor rights, but not always." She grinned ruthlessly. "And I'll make an example out of anyone who touches my donor again. We have an agreement?"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "What about how often you're going to drink my blood? I don't wanna be anemic."

She smirked at him. "Anemia is actually a deficiency of red blood cells in the blood, and has nothing to do with how much blood I drink, but I get your point." She put a thoughtful hand to her chin, glancing around the rather large stone room filled with bookcases. "Thrice a week, and I promise not to drink enough that you'll feel it."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at her. How safe should he play this one? "Once every two weeks."

Her eyes narrowed. "Twice a week."

"Once every two weeks."

Xanthir whistled appreciatively, probably at Cyrus's sheer _nerve_. Tara started growling under her breath, but her eyes weren't on Cyrus. They were on all the books. "Once a week, and that's my final offer you cheapskate!"

Cyrus grinned. "Deal." He held out a hand to shake, and she used a little more pressure than was strictly required. He suppressed his grimace.

"I work in the library from four till closing at midnight. I will require full use of your library while you are in classes. If that means you have to come and open the trunk for me every time, you will, capiche?"

Cyrus nodded. It was reasonable enough. "As long as you don't pull me out in the middle of classes to come open it for you, that's fine."

She nodded. "Alright. I'll be taking my weekly feeding now." She smirked evilly, stepping towards him. Cyrus tensed. "So, I usually ask if my donor wants to get all the benefits of a drinking. Do you?" When Cyrus looked confused, she smirked. "The hard-on, Cyrus." When his cheeks turned pink, she laughed. "It makes some of my other donors uncomfortable, too."

"I thought all vampires had an aphrodisiac as well as an anti-clotting agent in their saliva?"

Tara smirked. "It's not really in our saliva. Well, the anti-clotting is, but the aphrodisiac is more like a poison that gets stored in sacks attached to our fangs. Kinda like a snake." When Xanthir made mocking hissing noises, she raised a fist threateningly at him. He shut up and blinked innocently.

Cyrus ended up choking down his laughter, because Xanthir had just butchered what _could _have been 'mating season' in parselmouth. When Tara turned her colossal glare on him, he cleared his throat and tried to look innocent. He figured by her death glare that he was unsuccessful.

"Like I was _saying_, the more powerful vampires learn how to prevent the sacs from releasing the chemicals. We just have to milk them once in a while, otherwise our fangs start hurting like a bitch from the pressure. It usually takes a vampire until they're 20 or 30 to learn this. Of course, there're always exceptions. Some never learn it, and some are born with it. And then there's a couple that are born defective and don't have sacks at all. They usually don't survive long. It's hard to hunt when you're that young and your prey actually wants to get away."

Cyrus's lips formed a small 'o'. "Does it hurt if you don't use the aphrodisiac?"

She nodded. "Yep. Like someone was stabbing a pencil into your arm. But if you want, I can use just enough to numb the pain?"

Cyrus nodded. "I'd prefer that, actually. Thanks."

She nodded and motioned for him to lean over. She was even shorter than him. Five feet, at the most. When he obeyed, she gently cupped the opposite side of his neck and let her rather slender fangs sink into his flesh. There was a sharp sting before a warm haze settled over his mind, numbing the pain. He didn't get aroused, however, which was rather nice. It made him wonder, though. When Rivehn closed his bite, he probably hadn't needed to make Cyrus cream his pants. Why _had_ he, then? Was he born defective or did the sonofabitch do it on purpose?!

The haze began to fade as Tara pulled away and ran her tongue along the wound, mixing her saliva and a bit of magic to gently close the wound. He knew from past experience that there would be no scar.

When he met her eyes, he was alarmed to see the dark red glowing crimson. She smirked at him, flashing fang. "Ya gotta bitta Zest t'ya, kid." She whistled, and almost stumbled drunkenly into a bookshelf. "I had a taste a' ya b'fore, when I healed Asssters' bite, but th'real thing? Mmmm…" She closed her eyes, as if to savor the memory.

Cyrus was sufficiently creeped out.

"C'mon, Tara," Xanthir said softly, holding her up and waving a hand in front of her eyes. When she opened her eyes to stare at him, he smiled. "Your lookin' a little washed up there, Tara. C'mon, rejoin us lesser mortals in the real world."

She shook her head and blinked blearily at him. "Hey, wolfie. D'you know where that Daleesh, um… Darlish… uh… that vampire… M'gonna kick 'is asssss. Where's 'e?"

Xanthir just started _laughing_. His genuine amusement seemed to bring Tara out of her haze, because soon she was bashing him over the head and into the ground.

"Stop makin' fun a' me! He tastes good! So what! You moan and groan over a fresh buck, you dick!"

Xanthir just rolled away from her flailing limbs and kept laughing.

Tara pouted and ran a hand through long black hair. "Bitch."

Xanthir grinned from the floor. "Princess."

"Shit-eater."

"Drama queen."

"Piss-marker."

"Lady."

"Crotch-sniffer."

"Fairy."

"I _AIN'T_ no FUCKING _FAIRY_!" She kicked him into a bookshelf, but he just kept laughing.

Cyrus had a feeling there was some reference he was missing to the 'fairy' reaction.

She growled at him and jumped out of the trunk. When she tried to slam the lid in her anger, it slammed back open again. Cyrus choked on a laugh as she let out a frustrated noise.

He was considering staying in the trunk until she left.

Xanthir grinned, a feral glint in his eyes. "Hey Tara! Can I watch you beat the shit out of Dalesh? Or were you just drunk on blood?"

She stuck her head in the trunk. "You fucking mutt! You ask me this _after_ you piss me off?!"

He stuck out his lower lip, eyes large and watering. Cyrus wondered if it was an honest expression or a glamour. He sniffled.

A tick developed in her jaw.

He whimpered.

"FINE! Stupid fucking mutt! But that's only _if_ he makes a move, like I said before!" She tore away from the opening and slammed the lid again. It, of course, slammed back open.

Cyrus coughed to hide his laugh. Xanthir enthusiastically climbed up the ladder after her. "Why's that?" he asked, sticking his head out of the trunk.

"Because I hadn't staked a claim on him already, you idiot!"

Xanthir made a canine whine.

"Go get your fix somewhere else, mutt!"

Cyrus grinned and started climbing.

_oOo_

They decided to go to a late supper together since the negotiating had taken nearly an hour and Cyrus was still starving. There was a small crowd in the Main Hall either hanging out or doing homework at the tables. Cyrus found himself relieved at the lack of bodies. When the other two looked at him instead of picking a place to sit, he pointed to a table out of the way with a questioning look. The two immediately started walking over, leaving Cyrus to trail behind slightly confused.

Tara dropped into a seat, leaned back on the legs, and put her feet up on the table after snatching up a menu. "I feel like lamb's blood tonight, how 'bout you boys?" She smirked at them, flashing fangs.

Cyrus smiled, amused. "I think I'll settle for a steak. Well done."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She tapped the menu and a wine glass appeared in front of her.

"Aren't you already full?" Xanthir asked.

Tara raised an eyebrow. "Are you insinuating that I should leave, mutt?"

He shook his head, wild orange hair puffing up. "N-no, jus' curious." He wisely shut his mouth and ordered a bloody steak.

Cyrus made a face at the smell of blood, glad it wasn't much stronger than a tickle to his nose. If he had a werewolf's nose, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand it. He dug into his decidedly _cooked_ meal with gusto, hungry and just a little bit dizzy.

When Tara placed a glass of orange juice in front of him, he looked up from his food questioningly. "You've fed two vampires today, and even though I didn't take much, you need to get some sugar into your system so you don't pass out. You'll probably be lethargic for a couple days, too."

Cyrus smiled. "Thanks."

Tara shrugged, sipping from her wine glass and staring at something across the room.

"Hey wait, I gave him a blood replensher. Shouldn't he be better?"

Tara gave Xanthir an insufferable look. "A blood replenishing potion can only do so much, mutt. Although it replaces the blood cells, it doesn't replace the nutrients and sugar from the blood that was taken."

The werewolf's lips formed into a small 'o'.

"Well looky here. Awake already, human? The way you passed out there I thought you might be out for a couple hours, at least."

Cyrus tensed, angry with himself for not feeling the presence behind him. He looked at Tara, and she looked remarkably unsurprised. She must have known he was there. He was safe with Tara now though… right?

Xanthir growled, fist clenching on the table. "I'll kick yer ass, fang-face."

Dalesh chuckled lowly, running a finger from Cyrus's cheek down to his carotid artery. Cyrus felt the same wave of molasses as before, preventing his magic from responding. The energy boiled under his skin. The vampire behind him just laughed at his anger. He leaned down and licked Cyrus's neck.

"You do taste delicious, little human. I've been eager for a second sampling." Just as his fangs made contact with Cyrus's neck, there was a loud smack and crash and Cyrus stood and spun around to see Tara standing next to him, fist clenched and a wild grin on her face.

The entire hall was quiet, all eyes trained on the spectacle before them. Since it was late supper, only one teacher sat at the head table, and she didn't look like she gave two shits.

Dalesh had flown through two tables and multiple chairs, smashing most of them to tinder. They could easily be fixed with magic, but that knowledge didn't detract from the destruction. The vampire straightened from where he'd connected with the wall, having left a sizable dent. Cyrus just stared at the sight. It was one thing to know how physically difficult it was to kill a vampire, but another thing entirely to witness it. He knew if he had been the one Tara hit, he'd be a burst balloon of blood, bone, and brain matter. He needed to do something about that.

Tara made a tsking noise, stepping forward and away from Cyrus. "Careful who you fuck with, _Desh_."

The vampire was staring at her in surprise. "Tara? What the hell?"

Said vampire smirked. "I'll have you know that this _human_, Cyrus Obsidian, is my donor now."

Midnight blue eyes widened.

"So ask yourself, _Desh_. Do you wanna fuck with me? Or are you going to _never_ touch my human again?"

The vampire's eyes narrowed, his hand reaching for the sword strapped to his waist.

"Don't draw it unless you mean it."

Dalesh smirked, pulling it from the sheath with vampire speed.

Tara sighed mockingly in disappointment, but the charade was dropped quickly when she smirked viciously. "I've been meanin' to kick yer ass fer a long time, _Deshy_." They collided with a crash, Tara having pulled a longsword covered in runes out of thin air. Cyrus found that as he watched the two battle, his eyes began to pick up more than just blurs of motion, and he could see when Tara almost landed a hit and would have cut off Dalesh's arm if the vampire hadn't caught the blade with his bare hand. He had to quickly let go when the runes flared to life and lit his skin on fire. Some wandless magic put it out, but not before Tara had him pinned to the wall with her sword under his neck, almost touching and lighting _that_ skin on fire.

"You yield?"

Dalesh growled. Cyrus couldn't see Tara's expression, but he saw as her opponent's face crumpled and looked down and to the side.

"Say it, fucktard. So I don't have to teach this lesson again."

"I yield," he grated out, holding his charred hand to his chest. She let him go and he glared at her, sheathing his sword and vanishing into the shadows.

Xanthir was nearly bouncing with joy beside Cyrus, eliciting a bizarre look from the human.

Tara came back to them and collapsed back into her chair as if nothing had happened, her longsword disappearing to she only knew where. She picked up her wine glass and sipped, raising an eyebrow at Xanthir.

"Thanks, Tara." She just hummed and ordered another glass of blood. Cyrus sat, figuring that if she was going to be nonchalant, there wasn't really much else to say. He waved a hand over his food, casting a warming charm. He was shoving some food in his mouth when Tara spoke.

"Y'know, you've got to be the only wizard I've ever seen use so much bloody wandless magic. Do you _ever_ use your wand?"

Cyrus looked up in surprise, mouth full of steak and potatoes.

She gave him an amused look. He quickly washed down the food with his orange juice. "Yeah, why? Doesn't everybody?"

She stared at him incredulously. "Most people only practice enough to be proficient and do well in the class. They don't do _everything_ without a wand."

Cyrus gave her a funny look. "And how would you know if I never use my wand?"

"Rumors. They say that since a certain human has started taking Wandless Magic, they've never seen you use that incredibly long wand of yours once." She raised an eyebrow. "There is some speculation as to the reason."

Cyrus shrugged. "It's easy for me. Not like it helps me with you vampires, though. And that _thing _you do."

She grinned. "The aura thing? I can teach you how to shuck it. For a price."

Cyrus groaned. "What _else_ do you want from me?"

"You'll owe me a favor." He looked at her incredulously. "For the future, when I need your _expertise_."

"Deal. But it has to be reasonable."

She smirked. "Of course. Though, I wonder… If wandless casting doesn't wear you out, how powerful would a spell have to be for you to need your wand." She raised an eyebrow at him.

Cyrus frowned. "What else _have_ people been saying about me?"

Tara smirked. "Like I'm going to share all my secrets now that you're my donor. Tough luck, kid." She laughed as she stood up and left the room.

Cyrus stared after her, suddenly wondering the answer to her question himself.

_-Toki Mirage-_

Yo peoples!! I hope you liked the new chapter. My muse (who has returned to me!! (glomps)) and I picked over this chapter for a week about two weeks ago. The ending to the chapter's been kickin my ass though, so that's why it's taken an extra two weeks to get it out since I posted the word count on my profile. Lots of schoolwork. It's reading week now, though! I get to read my history textbook! Yaaay.

I'd also like to thank pichu10176 for finding a loophole. I have to admit I totally forgot about his stupid bottle cap glasses. (grins) Eheh. So thank you! And I decided to just go back and fix it in chapter four instead of making up some witty way of plunking it into this chapter.

_**BS PODFIC UPDATE:**_

Chapter two has been updated. For the link, please check my profile.


	7. Chapter Seven: Death Magic

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Seven:

_oOo_

"Everybody put your hand on this rope. Class is taking place elsewhere, today."

Cyrus did as instructed, curious as to what Yankovich had up his sleeve. They'd been learning how to access their death magic for the past month now, along with studying the history of its use throughout the ages. They'd had a few surprise classes where Yankovich had let them try to animate a recently dead corpse, but they'd never actually left Shikaan by portkey before.

Cyrus hated portkeys.

The cemetery they appeared in was cold, making Cyrus cast a warming charm as soon as he hit the ground. He was still incapable of keeping his feet using this mode of transportation, but he felt moderately better when he wasn't the only sitting in the dirt. Pushing himself to his feet, he followed as the small class of twelve students started moving, not knowing exactly where they were going.

When they came to a stop in front of a headstone, Yankovich began to speak. "Today everyone is going to try to raise a body from the ground. By now you should all be able to, even if you can't maintain your connection to the body for very long. Who would like to go first?"

A vampire near the front raised his hand without deliberation.

"Mr. Zirala. Do you have your salt?" When the vampire nodded, he pointed to a headstone nearby. "That person has been dead for 10 years," he said, and he never even looked at the writing on the stone. It made Cyrus wonder if he had been to this cemetery before, or if he just _knew_. "Raise it and try to keep the connection for five minutes. Keep your salt ready just incase."

Cyrus watched as the vampire centered himself, reaching for his death magic. Cyrus had placed himself near the back of the group, not wanting to be in the immediate line of fire if the zombie went bat shit and started trying to eat people. That was what the salt was for. A trained necromancer could put the undead to rest without the use of salt, but those learning didn't always have the skill to do so. Depending on how much death magic you had to pour into the body to make it rise, and how good you were at pulling it back out again, the undead could break its connection to you, keep the magic, and move under its own questionable logic. Mainly, start eating people.

Not wanting to be attacked, he put himself at the back of the group. He didn't have faith in his own classmates to care if he died, after all. And a bite from a cadaver was the most grotesque in existence. The amount of bacteria in them nearly guaranteed you would get an infection, and because of the death magic in the body, it was very difficult to heal. If such a wound wasn't healed within days of being inflicted, the death magic would get a grip on your flesh or your magic itself and slowly kill you.

Not a pleasant way to go by any means.

Turning his attention outward again, he watched as the ground parted to allow the corpse to be pulled into the light of day. Or whatever light there was, with the weather being terrible and it being fall.

"Very good. Now, keep the connection until I tell you to put it back in the ground. Keep your salt ready."

Cyrus flashed his attention between Yankovich and the undead for the next five painful minutes. The demon looked entirely unconcerned, but Cyrus wasn't sure if that was because he had faith in Zirala's abilities or his own. He also wasn't sure whether the demon would take control of the zombie before it attacked someone or not. Knowing Yankovich's odd sense of humour, he'd probably use the experience to 'teach them a lesson'.

Cyrus's turn was last. The entire class so far had managed to raise a body, though they had varying degrees of success once it was out of the ground, without too many mishaps. One werewolf Yankovich had to escort to Healer Svea from when his zombie got out of control and bit him, but other than that there were no serious injuries or casualties.

And Cyrus hoped it would stay that way. The class was almost over, but now it was _his_ turn, and he wasn't all that confident he'd be able to raise it. He'd failed all previous attempts. One of the many reasons he stood at the back of the class.

"Class is over in a couple minutes, so if you have somewhere else to be you may leave. Obsidian, come over here," Yankovich ordered even as the entire class popped away one by one. Cyrus felt relieved that they didn't care enough to see him fail. Again.

Nervously, he moved to stand in front of the headstone. He could sense it was around 10 to 30 years dead, but he wasn't good at doing much else. Sensing only took a fraction of death magic, and that was the problem. All he could manage to drudge up at a time was a small _fraction_, a small _sliver_ of death magic. Yankovich had said he had 'quite the lid' on his death magic in the first class, but no amount of meditation allowed him to pull out more than a sliver.

It was quite frustrating, especially as Yankovich had ordered them not to use death magic outside of class, and that if they _did _he would _know_.

It left very little time for practicing.

Standing in front of the headstone, he pulled his death magic out as quickly as he could, which is to say, at the pace of a dead snail. It took him five minutes of wondering whether Yankovich would get tired of waiting before he thought he had enough to attempt to snare the dead. Throwing the magic outside his body like a net, he aimed for the corpse he could feel in the dirt under his feet. It reached the corpse, but it was only enough for the dead flesh to twitch slightly in the earth before becoming motionless again. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he opened his eyes and stubbornly stared at the headstone. He didn't want to see the expression on his professor's face.

"What class do you have next?"

Cyrus blinked in surprise. "Animagus."

"And after that?"

"Nothing."

"And how well are you doing in Animagus? Are you behind?"

"No." Cyrus turned to look at Yankovich in his confusion. He was one of the first in his class to see parts of his animagus form. Most of the other students were still meditating. "Why?"

"Because you're falling behind in my class, and it's about time we did something about it." Cyrus shifted uneasily when intent sapphire eyes studied his face. "I had hoped you'd be able to break past the lid on your death magic yourself, but I haven't seen any improvement in your output for a month. Follow me."

Blinking in confusion, Cyrus followed the demon as he led them away from the headstones to a small field of grass. Looking around himself for the first time, he realized that they were probably in a muggle cemetery somewhere. It wasn't well cared for, but Cyrus could determine by the bodies he sensed in the ground it was still being used.

Yankovich sank gracefully to the ground, legs crossed, using his wings to slow the motion enough that he didn't hit the earth with an ungraceful 'plop'. He kept them extended and curved slightly, as he would be unable to close them properly on his back while sitting down like this. Again, Cyrus wondered if he'd had wings his entire life, and if they were as useful as often as they got in the way.

"Hold out your hands."

Cyrus dropped onto the ground in front of him, not nearly as gracefully as the demon, and set his hands gently in the demon's own. Long, pale fingers closed, careful of the nails. Cyrus wondered if they were as strong as they looked.

Two tendrils extended up his arms, making Cyrus start in surprise. Oh, he remembered now, the feeling of Yankovich in the first class when the demon had tried to find his death magic. It was as… odd… as he remembered.

"I want you to draw your death magic out as you did before. Try to pull out as much as you can."

Cyrus closed his eyes and focused, searching for the place deep beneath his core that housed his other magic. It was getting easier to find it, but not any easier to use it. Pulling at the magic, he was frustrated once again when all he managed was a small thread.

A tendril of _other_ joined him just under his core, right where the death magic sat stubbornly silent. He watched as Yankovich started pulling with him, and didn't have much luck either. It was like playing tug-o-war with a very recalcitrant dog.

Yankovich stopped pulling abruptly, and so did Cyrus. He watched as the demon seemed to gather his strength about him and then give the 'door' a solid _whack._

_pain_

_it was dark_

_it was so dark and he was drowning drowning drowning-_

_safe place he needed a safe place where was his safe place-_

_sunken mind flying by reaching for it hiding_

_magic magic magic_

_it was everywhere he couldn't stop the flow it was burning and drowning-_

_Everything stopped._

_oOo_

His vision was black. He thought he could hear a banging sound somewhere, but he didn't care. He wasn't drowning in the fire anymore, and that was all he cared about.

The sound got louder, and he told it to be quiet. It stopped for a moment before getting even louder, and finally, growling, he reconnected with his body and opened his mind to tell them to fuck off-

Sapphire eyes stared down at him in concern.

He blinked, disoriented as he returned to his body. He felt like someone had pounded him with a sledgehammer. Where was he? He tried to ask, but his throat just croaked miserably. Frowning, he cleared it and tried again. "Where…?"

The sapphire globes looked relieved. "Cyrus? Are you alright?"

Blinking hard to clear his vision of spots, the human took stock of his surroundings. He was in a graveyard? "What happened?"

A pale hand moved to his forehead. "Where is your mind? I must make sure there is no damage."

Cyrus frowned. "Buried. Why…?"

"You must unbury it, Cyrus. I must check for damage." When the human shook his head, Yankovich looked even more persistent. "_Now_, Obsidian. I am quite serious."

"Too much work…"

A strong hand gripped his chin, forcing him to look into sapphire eyes. They were furious. "I. Don't. Care. You annoying little human. Let me check that the death magic hasn't broken your mind!"

Cyrus frowned. "Promise you won't go rifling through my memories?"

The demon looked pissed. "YES! You stubborn little cretin! Now let me make sure my foolishness hasn't damaged your questionable intelligence already! Or I'll kill you myself and bind your soul to a stuffed animal for the rest of your miserable existence!"

Cowed, Cyrus turned himself inward and searched for the sunken ball – wherever it had floated to. He found it in the farthest reaches of his magic and yanked it towards him. With nervous energy, he pulled himself and the ball out of his magic and to where his mind _used_ to be. After glancing around at the large empty space, he hit the 'clasp' that released the compression and watched as the web sprung free to fill the space. Feeling a tickle, he flew between the webs to find the foreign energy prodding around. He called the cemetery into existence around them.

The world was as gray and dreary as he remembered, and he found the demon professor looking around himself with a closed expression. When he caught sight of Cyrus, he raised an eyebrow. "What happened to the web?"

He shrugged. "I've never tried to talk to someone in the web before. Didn't know if it was possible, so I brought us here." He turned to a headstone and gave it a kick. He felt the pain as the image wavered in front of him like a bad TV signal. "Don't blow anything up. It hurts like a bitch."

Yankovich's expression was curiously blank. "You know this how?"

Cyrus plunked himself down onto the headstone, knowing it would support his 'weight' even though it technically didn't exist. "Experience."

"Has your mind always been like this? A web that can turn into a cemetery?"

Cyrus shrugged. "My Occlumency teacher was the one to bring me to this mindscape for the first time. I like to think of it as a visual representation of my mind itself, so that other people can understand it. When I found my mind under my own power for the first time, it was like you saw before. A web." Cyrus bit his lip, hoping the Necromancer wouldn't ask for any more. He was scary when pissed, but Cyrus didn't like sharing his personal information with _anybody._ And the manipulations of Dumbledore were high on his 'lock-away-and-eat-the-key' list.

"Was the scarring already present?"

Cyrus blinked. "You can see it?"

Yankovich nodded, and for the first time the human got the impression he was disturbed. "Yes. It's not fresh, but the damage… What is it from?"

Cyrus glared. Great. Just what he needed – his teacher seeing him as 'damaged'. Stupid fucking meddlesome old- "None of your bloody business. Now can you finish whatever it is that you're doing and get out of my mind?"

The next thing he knew he was slammed against a tree, feeling the pain on two fronts. In his body and in the tree. He winced as Yankovich's eyes burned into his own.

"You ungrateful little brat," the low baritone growled. "I didn't _have_ to save you from blowing up half of Switzerland, but I _did_. And it certainly wasn't because I was _obligated to._" He leaned even closer to Cyrus's face. This close Cyrus could smell cinnamon, musk, and bad breath. "I could have just left you here to die and told Kyranes you had a little 'accident'. But I didn't. Why is that, Obsidian?"

Cyrus kept his mouth shut, eyes wide with fear.

Yankovich pulled away, releasing his hold. Cyrus collapsed in a heap at the base of the tree. "Now. I understand you don't want to share your stupid little traumatic secrets, but _next time_ show some goddamned respect. You're just a human, boy, and it wouldn't take much for me to break you in half."

And with that said, the demon vanished from his mind. Blinking, Cyrus let the mindscape fade around him and returned to the web. It took him a bit of prodding, but he got it compressed again and sank it once again into his magic. When he returned to the real world, Yankovich was sitting across from him, eyes closed in anger? Meditation? Sleep? Cyrus had no idea. He seemed to notice when the human had awoken, however, as his eyes opened once more.

The two stared at each other for a moment before Cyrus finally got up the nerve to speak. "I'm… I'm sorry, Professor."

The demon didn't say anything, but his eyes seemed to defrost slightly and his tail stopped twitching.

Cyrus bit his lip nervously. "So… what happened, exactly?"

"The lid on your death magic was strong, and apparently, for a reason. I doubt you would have been able to control the power as a child, so you're lucky in a way. No so fortunate in others. When the lid was removed, your death magic exploded from where it has been bottled up and got in a fight with your normal magic. I siphoned off most of the magic into myself. I'll have to release it slowly over the next couple of days." He smirked, and Cyrus felt a little relief. At least the demon was starting to act normal again. "I have to thank you, really. I've been wanting to perform an experiment for a while now but haven't been able to find anyone willing to part with their death magic. Now I can do it myself."

Cyrus frowned. "What kind of project?"

Yankovich grinned. "Just a little revenge."

Cyrus wasn't sure he_ wanted_ to know the details.

"Now, on to business. You need to balance your magics. I'm not entirely sure how you're going to do it, but that wand of yours is just going to make things worse. Without a focus that's as strongly connected to your natural magic as your current wand is to death, every time you use it your death magic will rebel against its confines. It will use your wand to control you." He frowned. "I'm not sure how you want to deal with that."

_Fuck_.

He remembered when he'd bought the wand from Ollivander. The man had said his wand might control him one day if he didn't get a handle on his death magic, but Cyrus hadn't thought… "What can I do?"

Yankovich actually ran a hand over his face, sapphire eyes deep in thought. "You must find a wand, or another focus, that is in tune with your natural magic. Have you had the death stick your entire life?"

Cyrus shook his head, looking down at his hands sadly. His phoenix wand… "No. It's a recent replacement."

Yankovich frowned. "What happened to your old one?"

"It was destroyed." Cyrus rubbed his face with frustrated hands. "Well, the phoenix feather survived, but it's either lost or someone stole it from me."

"Phoenix feather, you say?"

Cyrus nodded.

"Do you know where it is? Could you find it if you tried?"

"I don't know. Well, I have a guess, but the wards on his- well, they're too powerful for me to handle."

Yankovich frowned. "You need to find this feather that you've already bonded with. Until you do, don't cast any spells with your death wand. And if you ever feel like your death magic is bursting at the seams, _find me_. I won't have you killing half the school by accident. Understand?"

Cyrus's eyes widened. "Yes, sir."

Yankovich nodded. "Good. Now return to Shikaan, we're done for the day. I have to soak up the residue of our little… accident."

Cyrus nodded and apparated past the wards.

_oOo_

"GET YOUR LAZY ASSES MOVING!!"

Cyrus cursed under his breath as he dodged another colourful curse sent his way. Weapons and Battle was certainly not his favourite class, but it was necessary if he was to be in fighting shape. Or at least that's what he tried to convince himself as Welkins shouted some more. Of all the W&B teachers, Welkins was his least favourite. He much preferred Ouragan, the hand-to-hand combat instructor.

Each year was separated depending on the student's physical capabilities coupled with their skill. Usually the humans were grouped together at the bottom of the class. This relieved Cyrus, to be honest, because he saw the vampires and werewolves fighting each other on the other side of the courtyard, and he did _not_ want to be the one being smashed repeatedly into trees.

It made him wonder if humans could ever physically survive an encounter with a werewolf or a vampire. Basilisk skin armour could only do so much, after all.

Today they were going through an obstacle course. They had to make their way through various physical hurdles while having the co-ordination and awareness to dodge multiple curses, and the curses wouldn't be removed until you had left the course, since the class was banned from using their wands. Not that Cyrus could have used his bloody wand either way.

It had been a week since that class in Switzerland. Yankovich had banned him from raising the dead until he had his phoenix wand, so he was getting farther and farther behind in the course. And Cyrus still had no idea how he was going to locate his feather and extricate it from Dumbledore's office. Every time he tried to think up a plan, he couldn't help but worry over everything that could possibly go wrong. He wasn't nearly qualified enough to take down Dumbledore's wards, the security on Hogwarts had probably been increased, he didn't want to get anywhere near the senile old-

Cyrus swore under his breath as a curse singed the hair on the back of his head. The only advantage he had in this class was his wandless magic, as he'd been using it for months now and even more intensively for the past week. He'd been trying to conserve his magic as much as possible lately, since wandless magic took a toll on his reserves after a while, but sometimes his body was physically incapable of getting through Welkin's hellish training regime, and he had to give himself an extra 'boost'.

He knew there would be a couple humans that couldn't make it out before the end of class, but he wasn't going to be one of them. He wasn't going to fall behind in _another_ course.

"Shit!"

Cyrus glanced up in surprise, just in time to see a body falling towards him. Before he could react, the body had knocked him from his grip on the wall and they were both tumbling towards the ground.

And he'd almost been at the top, too!

They hit the ground with a thump, and Cyrus could feel a couple things break from the extra weight landing on top of him. Groaning, he pushed the heavier body off him. "What the hell!"

"Sorry," a soft tenor said, making the teenager almost sound boyish.

"Watch where you're falling next time," Cyrus grumbled, using his magic to assess the damage to his body as he'd been taught in Healing class. Thank goodness he had that class right after this. He'd probably be able to get Healer Svea to check over his patch job. Locating the two broken ribs, he was relieved to find that they hadn't punctured anything. Focusing his magic, he shifted them back into place with a wince and set his magic to healing the fractures.

"Are you okay?"

Finishing up his healing, Cyrus sat up and looked at the guy who had nearly crushed him. Green eyes met the oddest pair he had ever seen. They were steel-grey, with pupils slit like a cat.

Weird.

He raised an eyebrow at the grey-skinned demon, glancing at the wings on said demon's back. "How did you fall off when you have _wings?_"

The demon's cheeks darkened. Cyrus assumed it was a blush. "I couldn't open them before I hit you. And flying over the wall makes Welkins curse-happy."

Standing up, Cyrus glanced around to assure himself there was no other threat around. Meaning, no more threat of him being crushed again. "Well, be more careful next time," he grumbled under his breath before jumping back on the stone wall. The bright side of having already climbed it was that he knew where all the best footholds were. He made it up about a third of the way before the demon caught up with him. He tried to ignore the curious amber eyes on his face. What was so curious about a _human_, anyway.

Having ignored the demon, Cyrus was surprised to see him crouching next to him when he arrived at the top. He was still being watched curiously. It irked him.

Careful to not fall off the sides, he made his way across the top of the magically created 'cliff'. With his luck, there'd be some sort of booby trap ready to spring on him. When it finally did, he had to weave his way through geysers of fire, suddenly very grateful for his basilisk armour. He would have been singed a couple times already if he didn't have it.

He had to walk across a thin metal beam next, in order to make it to the end. All the students who had already finished the course were of course standing below it with varying degrees of perverse enjoyment. Some had already started throwing curses.

Swearing under his breath, he watched as the curses were repelled around the beam, leaving it perfectly intact. Humming thoughtfully to himself, he stretched out his senses to feel the beam. He could put up a shield that would (hopefully) last until he got across the beam… but the downside of some shields was that powerful spells could physically push the caster around, which would make him lose his balance. The other option was to copy the spell already on the beam.

"There's no way to get across that with so many students. We're nearly the last to finish."

Cyrus turned to look beside him. It was that demon from earlier. He was _still_ there. "Why are _you_ at the end of the race? Aren't you a _demon_ or something?" he snapped, rather annoyed with the student's dreary and negative outlook.

The demon twitched. "I broke my leg early in the course."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose in surprise. "And you haven't _healed_ it yet?"

The demon shrugged. "It'll heal on its own eventually."

Cyrus could only shake his head in bewilderment. Didn't he know that if you didn't let a bone set properly, it could heal improperly? What was he doing _walking_ on the thing? "Sit down," he ordered, feeling like he was channeling Healer Svea.

The demon just stared at him.

"NOW!"

Steel eyes wide, he obeyed. Grumbling under his breath, Cyrus ran a probing hand over the demon's legs, searching for the broken bone. It was mostly healed, but it had set on a slight angle that Cyrus knew from Healing class would give the demon trouble later in life. "I have to break it again," he told the demon, thrusting his magic to obey him before the demon could protest. A strangled sound broke from the student's throat, but otherwise he was silent. Ignoring the intent eyes on his face, he sent his magic to work, weaving the fragment of bone back together, double-checking that it set straight.

"There," he said, withdrawing his magic. "It would have been worse if you'd let it heal that way. Take a bloody Healing course, already." Grumbling under his breath about stupid people not taking care of his health, he turned back to the course in time for Instructor Welkins to impersonate an army drill sergeant again.

"WHAT'S KEEPIN' YOU LAZY BUMS! STOP STARIN' AND START WALKIN'!"

Rolling his eyes, Cyrus decided to try the option C that had been floating around in his mind before the demon had distracted him. Focusing, he closed his lids and let the world disappear into runes around him. He didn't want the demon to see the glow of his eyes, after all.

The spell on the beam was rather complex. Cyrus could literally _see_ as the other spells, knots of runes, were deflected easily around the netting that coated the metal. Well, he couldn't _see_ the metal, but he knew it was there because of how the runes clung to it. 'Reaching' for the spell, as he'd been practicing with slow progress for the past two months whenever he could find the time, he found the set of anchoring runes holding the spell down. Adding a couple of runes to it, he included himself as 'something to be anchored', and the spell spread up to wrap around him.

"It's nearly impossible to get across," the demon said as Cyrus opened his eyes again. Of course, the demon hadn't seen him manipulating the ward.

The human looked back at him with a contemplative look.

Making the decision, he held out his hand. "C'mon. I already healed your leg once. No point in letting you break it again. Or get roasted."

The grey demon gave him an odd look. "What are you talking about?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "I'm getting us both across in piece. Do you want to survive the next two minutes or not?" He raised an annoyed eyebrow.

Slowly, the demon stretched out his hand. Cyrus grasped it and closed his eyes again to shift the spell to 'share' them. He had to drag the demon onto the beam at first, but once he realized that the spells weren't hitting them, the demon calmed down.

When they reached the other side the bell rang, and Cyrus let out a sigh of relief. "Finally done the obstacle course from hell," he grumbled under his breath and walked towards his next class, leaving the demon behind him to stare at him silently.

_oOo_

After he finished all his classes for the day, Cyrus buried himself in the runes section of the Library again. He was cruising at the top of his class in Runes right now because of all his self-study. And he was cruising closer to an F with every Necromancy class. The looks the other students gave him made him want to curse their eyeballs out of their sockets, and the blank look Yankovich gave him every time Cyrus had to sit on the bench during a trip to the cemetery had the human's insides squirming for a reason he couldn't quite describe.

"Hey Cyrus!"

The human started when a warm lycan body jumped on his back, nearly knocking his face into the table. "Hey Xanthir," he mumbled into the woodwork.

Xanthir frowned and slid of Cyrus's back. When the human looked up curiously, amber eyes were watching him with concern. "What's up?" Cyrus raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You haven't been yourself for a week now, Cyrus. C'mon. Share with the class. I'll even put up a silencin' ward." The werewolf waved his wand and the ward slipped into place.

Biting his lip, Cyrus stared down at the Runes text in front of him. He wasn't sure he wanted to share his problems with his… 'friend' yet. Then again, maybe he needed a fresh pair of eyes. He'd been working this problem over for the past week with no results. Reluctantly, he cast three other wards in silent succession over top of Xanthir's. The Were's eyebrows rose.

"I… I have a bit of a problem."

Xanthir plopped himself down in the seat across from Cyrus. "What kinda problem?"

Cyrus wondered how much he should tell him. "I need to find my old wand."

An orange eyebrow rose. "Why? Something happen to your 15-inch wonder?"

Cyrus shook his head. "No, the new wand is actually the problem…" He sighed. "You know I'm taking Necromancy, right? Well, my death magic is going out of control and my new wand has dementor's blood in it. So I can't use it, or it'll speed up the process. I'm either going to fail the course in the next month or blow up half the school." He scowled. "Or both."

Both of Xanthir's eyebrows crawled into his hairline. The wolf whistled. "So you need a wand that won't aggravate your death magic."

Cyrus nodded. "Yes. Exactly."

"Why dontcha just buy a new one?"

"Because my old phoenix feather from my old wand survived, but someone stole it from me."

Xanthir stared at him, and then repeated himself slowly. "Why. Don't. You. Just buy a new. One. Find another phoenix feather wand."

Cyrus scowled. "Do you know how many wands I went through in order to find my _first_ wand, let a lone my _second?_ Close to three hundred."

Xanthir raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Yeah, well, that's if you go to the human wand makers. I'm sure you can find a phoenix feather that suits you from another wand dealer. Or you can go hunt down the bird that gave your original. The point is, you can't just throw an idea away without even trying it."

But Cyrus had stopped listening. Fawkes. How could he have missed that? Sure, it wouldn't be his original wand, but it would be from the same phoenix, so that meant that it could be a match, right? He still had to get into Hogwarts and into Dumbledore's office, but asking a bird for a new feather would be infinitely more simple than searching for a needle in a haystack of dumblewards.

"Hellooo. Shikaan to Cyyyyyrus. Anybody in there?"

Cyrus came out of his thoughts to see an unshaven face centimeters from his own. Acting on instinct, his magic slammed into the body in his personal space and sent it careening into a bookshelf.

"CYRUS OBSIDIAN!!"

Cyrus's eyes snapped between the bookshelf falling over and the sight of Tara in all her righteous fury stomping towards him. Wide-eyed, he reached out with his magic to the bookshelf and managed to stop it before it hit another bookshelf and started a domino effect. Unfortunately, he forgot about all the books on the tilted side that fell off their shelves and landed on the floor. Swearing under his breath, he turned back to Tara just in time to duck a blow that could have taken off his head.

"I'm sorry! Careful, damnit!"

"You're not the one that has to reshelve all those books, you clumsy wand-waving monkey!!"

"Technically, he didn't use a wand," Xanthir interjected from where he was standing upright. The carefree grin on his face reassured Cyrus that there were no hard feelings.

"YOU! SHUT YOUR RABIES-INFECTED PIE-HOLE!"

Xanthir 'eeped' and hid behind a bookshelf.

Tara turned back to Cyrus. "And you! You owe me a double donation this cycle, you clumsy meat-sack! It's going to take me hours to get them all in the right order." When he didn't say anything at first, she hissed angrily. Eyes wide, he nodded emphatically. "Good. I'll take that payment tonight when I come by to your library."

Xanthir, who had inched out from behind the bookshelf, whistled a catcall. "You spending the nights now, Tara?" he taunted with a grin.

She hissed, flashing her cute little fangs that could likely rip out your jugular. "I'm on a nocturnal sleep cycle right now, you moron!"

The werewolf just snickered.

Cyrus couldn't stop his lip from twitching at the familiar scene. He swore those two could be siblings with how much they bickered.

"Hey Xanthir, could I get the names and locations of those places you were talking about earlier?"

It took a second for the werewolf to remember what he was talking about, but eventually the light bulb went off. "Oh right! Sure thing, Cy." He reached for his bag on the ground and rifled through it.

Tara raised an eyebrow. "What are you two cookin' up?"

Cyrus shook his head. "Nothing. I'm looking to get a new wand, and Xanthir mentioned some places besides human wand-makers to get one."

"Aaah. Show me the list when he's done. I probably know more than him."

He smiled. "Thanks."

She grinned, flashing her cute little fangs. "What are you thanking me for? I'm taking extra tonight."

Cyrus rolled his eyes.

_oOo_

He stared at the run-down shack incredulously, glancing between the sheet in his hands and the number half-falling off its door. Did a wand-maker _really_ _live here?_

His hand inched towards his wand before he reminded himself that he couldn't use the bloody thing. Swearing under his breath, he climbed carefully over the partially-collapsed deck and made his way to the door. He knocked.

And waited.

After getting no response, he knocked harder and startled when the door was knocked open by the force. Jeez. He hadn't been knocking _that_ hard. Preparing a wandless stunning charm, he let it float under the skin of his hand as he entered the house.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

A crash and curse sounded from downstairs, and Cyrus looked around for a staircase. Except there wasn't one.

With a _crack_, a rather filthy-looking teenager popped into existence in front of him. He made a face. "The fuck _you_ want, human?"

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "I heard from a friend that you sell wands or supplies for them. I'm looking for a phoenix feather."

The kid snorted. "Ain't givin' you one a' those. Very hard to find. Now fuck off."

The sound that came out of Cyrus's throat sounded so much like a growl, the kid actually paused to give him a weird look. He'd been to _ten_ different places looking for a phoenix feather, and if this stupid little cock-sucking brat wasn't willing to part with one, he had another thing coming!

"If you have a phoenix feather, I want it," Cyrus growled, taking a step farther into the wrecked shack.

The kid crossed his arms. "Dude. Fuck off. I said I'm not givin' it up, so I'm not givin' it up."

Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "I'm willing to pay you a substantial amount of gold to part with it."

"So what? I don't need your gold."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose incredulously, and he took another look around him.

The kid snorted. "It may not be pigs and ponies, but this place suits my needs. I don't need some rich lil' brat like you tellin' me I need your stinkin' money."

"Then what _do_ you need?"

The kid grinned. His eyes lowered and slowly rose, making Cyrus squirm. Surely the kid wasn't-

"Haven't been laid in a while. N' you're pretty hot." The look of disgust on his face must have shown, because the kid scowled darkly. "What? Is it cuz I'm a _guy_, you homophobic human prick?"

"What? Jesus, when was the last time you showered? This has nothing to do with you being a _guy_." Well, that's what Cyrus wanted to think. He wasn't sure he knew what gender he liked, but _this kid_ certainly didn't do anything for him. He had a limited experience with women, and no experience with men, so even if he _was_ going to have sex with someone, it definitely wasn't going to be this narcissistic, filthy-

"Well, if you're not puttin' out, neither am I. Now get the fuck off my property." The kid glared.

Cyrus wanted to punch his face in. "There has to be something besides sex that you're willing to barter with."

The kid snorted. "Unless you're a magic sensitive, sex is the only trade, man."

Cyrus frowned. Magic sensitive? "What do you mean by sensitive?"

He got an 'are-you-stupid?' look for his effort. "Dude. Magic sensitive? As in, people who have a natural affinity for magic?"

Cyrus could remember something vaguely from his first Necromancy class, but it was too long ago for him to be sure. "How do you know if you're magic sensitive?"

The kid let out an angry breath and strode towards Cyrus. The human took a step back as he got his first good look at the amber eyes sunk in the kid's unhealthy face. "If you wanna know, stop lookin' at me like that, prick." He grabbed Cyrus's wrist, and it took all the human's control to not let the stunner loose. The kid's eyebrows rose. "Wandless pre-cast. Impressive. Not many people your age can do that. Absorb the stunner, and I'll show you."

Warily, Cyrus did as instructed. He could smell the kid's horrible breath this close. Before he could contemplate the smell much longer, however, he felt a lightning-fast tendril of magic shoot up his arm and start _writhing_ inside his channels. The unexpected pleasure sent him crashing to his knees.

The kid whistled. "Oooh, very sensitive it looks." He let go of Cyrus's wrist and the human let out a shuddering breath. _Holy shit_. "I'll deal. Follow me." He started walking to the back of the shack, and it took a couple seconds for Cyrus to pull himself together and stand. Not before he readjusted himself in his pants, though. _Fuck_.

The kid led him to a set of stairs that looked as if they had been carved out of stone. Cyrus wasn't sure he wanted to follow the kid into the pit, but he couldn't sense any anti-apparition wards, and he was fairly confident in his wandless casting. And if he needed to, he could always blast the kid with his wand.

"Whatcha need a phoenix feather for, anyway?" The kid's voice echoed in the staircase.

"Wand."

"Well, duh. Whatcha need a new wand for? Y'already got one."

Cyrus frowned. "How could you tell?"

"I make wands. Idiot."

Cyrus decided he really didn't like conversation with this prick. "And what exactly do you need a magic sensitive for?"

The kid grumbled under his breath. "I have a recent acquisition that is being… difficult to manage. Rumour has it they like sensitives, though I don't know why. I was hopin' you could talk sense into the thing."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose as they finally came to the end of the stairs. "I take it it's an animal?"

"See for yourself." He pointed to a cage in a corner of the room. Cyrus's eyes widened. "She doesn't even like parselmouths. I already tried that. She won't give me one of her fangs for a wand, no matter what I do. It's gettin' real frustratin'. If she'd give me the ruddy fang, I'd a' let her go already. Stupid beast."

_You're the ssstupid beassst, flea-bitten mutt._

Cyrus choked on a laugh, getting a weird look from the wand-maker.

"Well, if you can get a fang, I'll give you the phoenix feather. I don't normally work with light-magic stuff anyway. I just happened to find this one a month ago."

_I wouldn't give you a fang if you gave me twenty hatchlingsss, you- oooh. I sssmell… a sssmeller. Come clossser, sssmeller._

Cyrus conjured a light and made his way towards the snake. She was _huge_. He bet one of her fangs would be as long as his _hand_.

_Yesss… you may pet me, sssmeller._

Cyrus tentatively reached his hand between the bars and pet the head of the snake. He heard a gasp behind him, but ignored it.

_Sssmell me, sssmeller. It hasss been too long sssince I have ssseen your kind. Will you help my hatchlingsss?_

Cyrus blinked. Hatchlings? What was the snake talking about?

_Pleassse?_ It hissed, and Cyrus could swear it almost sounded wistful.

_How can I help your hatchlingsss, beautiful one?_ Cyrus hissed softly to it.

"A sensitive _and_ a speaker." He could hear the grin in the wolf's voice. "I picked gooood."

Cyrus ignored him.

_Sssmell them. They are inssside, but will not be born for many yearsss. If you sssmell them, they will wake up and be born._

Cyrus didn't think snake hatching worked this way, but who was he to know? Putting his hand on the snake's head, he carefully reached his magic _into_ it and was surprised at how much he could _feel_. He knew that there were three baby snake eggs inside that were fully developed, but they were just _waiting_, like the snake had said. Reaching his magic towards them, he let it touch them. He gasped as they came alive under his touch, wiggling in their eggs.

_Thank you_, _ssspeaker and sssmeller._ _I will give you the fang if you take me to the foressst._

Cyrus pulled his hand out of the cage and turned to the werewolf grinning behind him. "She says she'll give you the fang if I can take her to the forest."

He nodded. "You get the fang, I'll get the feather." And then disappeared with a crack.

Shrugging, Cyrus turned back to the snake. _He agrees_.

_Pull the fang. You will find it already loossse._

The snake opened her mouth and Cyrus reached inside the cage and pulled ever-so-gently. The fang came free with a soft _snick_.

The werewolf reappeared with a crack, a tube in his hand. "The feather's inside." He pulled the lid off and flashed the contents before closing it again. "Now, the fang." He grinned greedily, eyeing the silver in Cyrus's hands.

"Let the snake go, first. I'm taking her to the forest."

The wolf nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, take her." He waved a wand at the cage and the lock fell off. Holding out the tube, his eyes were all over the fang.

Cyrus handed it over, taking his tube and double checking on the feather inside. He pulled it out and felt a warmth spread through him, but not the same as his original wand. Damnit. Slipping the feather back into the case and closing it, he turned to the snake and opened the door to its cage.

_Climb onto my arm. I'm taking you home with me, then I'm going to take you to the only foressst I know._

_Isss it niccce?_

_Apparently. The centaursss think ssso._

The snake hissed in contentment as he wrapped her around his waist and pulled the shirt down. _Ssstay hidden, and don't bite me, okay?_

_Yesss._

He disappeared with a crack as soon as the snake was secured, wanting to get away from the wolf behind him as soon as possible.

_oOo_

Cyrus appeared in his room with a crack and let out a sigh. Well, if his plans of going to Hogwarts had only been hesitant before, now he _had_ to go. Bugger.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a body jumped on his back. "Hey Cyr—OH GOD!"

Cyrus dearly wanted to hex the werewolf for jumping on him, but currently had both hands wrapped around the snake that was trying to get at Xanthir.

_Stupid mutt!_

_Calm down! He didn't mean to surprise you, he didn't know you were there, _he tried to consol the furious serpent.

Xanthir was staring at him with wide eyes. "You're a parselmouth?"

Cyrus swore and glared. "Yes. Thanks for pissing off the 7-foot snake, Xanthir."

The wolf held up two hands defensively. "S-sorry, I didn't even notice. Where the heck did you get it from?"

"One of the wand-makers."

Xanthir grinned. "Oh right! So, how'd the hunting go?" Xanthir asked, collapsing into one of Cyrus's crappy chairs and putting his feet up on the table. Cyrus itched to hex him purple, but didn't want to miss and risk staining the furniture. Or freak out the giant snake currently rewrapping itself around his waist.

"Shitty. I found three phoenix feathers and spent a lot of money. Not everyone is as willing to part with a phoenix feather as Ollivander."

Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing up from where she sat on his bed, reading a book. He suppressed another surprised flinch. Had she been there the whole time? And since when had these two gotten so comfortable in his rooms? He needed to find better locking charms… "Nice scales," she commented, turning back to her book. "Surely one of the feathers fits?"

Cyrus bit his lip. "They're not the same as my original. I don't feel the same kind of… _connection_ with them."

She snorted. "Sounds like you're fucked then. In the meantime, get those feathers made into wands and see if they work at all before you just toss them. They may hold you over until you find your old one."

Running a hand through his hair, he made his way into the small student kitchen built in the corner of the room and pulled a butterbeer out of the cold box. "I guess," he grumbled, twisting the lid off and taking a few gulps.

Tara turned a page. "Why do you need your old wand so desperately, anyway?"

"He's gonna blow up the school if he doesn't get it," Xanthir replied blithely, either missing or purposely ignoring the look Cyrus shot him.

Tara actually looked up from her book. "You're kidding. Why?"

Xanthir started snacking on a bag of chips he'd pulled out of nowhere. "Something to do with necromancy and his 15-inch wonder."

She raised an eyebrow at Cyrus, and the human sighed and caved. "My death magic really likes when I use my wand because it has dementor's blood in it. Unfortunately, I need another wand just as powerful linked to my natural magic, or I could blow up the school."

Tara whistled. "Damn, kid. Good luck with that." She turned back to her book, making Cyrus roll his eyes.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, Cyrus," Xanthir said.

Cyrus was sure that was meant to be comforting, but it didn't really do the job. Because he was back to square one if these wands didn't work. He had to find his original phoenix feather or get a new feather from the same bird, and _both_ were located in the last place he ever wanted to be. The place that he had to take this snake to, as he'd promised.

Hogwarts.

_-Toki Mirage-_

Well, that took forbloodyever. Sorry guys. Had exams and all that, and my muse was extra busy.

And thanks to Roos, for musing this chapter and all my others :) As always, a third of the material results from her awesomeness! ;P Love you Roos!

_Edit 09/07/09 – changed Yalmireth's eyes_


	8. Chapter Eight: Phoenix Feathers

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Eight:

_oOo_

"_Three?_ What could you possibly want with _three_ wands, kid?"

Cyrus was currently standing across from the non-human wand-maker who had seemed the most qualified out of all the ones he'd ran to looking for feathers. And she was the only one who actually had a _store_. He bit his lip and glared. "I need a phoenix feather wand custom-made."

The lady behind the counter raised an incredulous eyebrow. "And since when are _you_ an expert on wand cores, huh? There's a reason I'm getting paid to do this and you're not."

Cyrus felt his eye twitch. "My first wand was destroyed. It was a phoenix feather."

She raised an eyebrow. "What wood? How long?"

He blinked. "Er, holly. I think it was around 12 inches."

"Hmm… a Light-based wand in its entirety. Your magic isn't very Light anymore, kid. More Grey. How did you manage to get the wand to work for you?"

"Well, I haven't used it for five months. So I don't know."

She nodded. "And what wand have you been using in the meantime?"

Cyrus pulled out his wand and felt his death magic stir under his core. Shit. Quickly, he placed it on the counter.

Her eyebrows rose as she ran a hand over its length. "A ridiculously long wand with dementor's blood for a core? You must do heavy death magic."

Cyrus shoved his hands in his pockets. "That's the problem. Every time I pick it up my death magic…"

"Aaah, I see. You need a wand that has just as strong an affinity to your natural magic for balance." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, your last wand may have been a phoenix feather, but that doesn't mean that these new feathers or even your old one will work for you. A phoenix is a creature born of Light magic."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "I know someone with a yew and phoenix feather wand that casts Avada Kedavera more times than he takes a piss, and you're saying my old one doesn't suit me anymore?"

She shook her head. "You misunderstand. The combination of holly and phoenix feather doesn't allow for much Dark magic at all."

"Then you can just change the wood."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who's the wand maker, kid? I know what I'm talking about. Just changing the wood won't necessarily mean that the wand will be a match for you anymore." She turned to her stock with a curious look on her face. A flick of her hand had multiple boxes floating down onto the counter. "Put your death wand away. I want you to try some of my wands before I waste those phoenix feathers you've got there."

Sighing, Cyrus did as instructed. Fifty wands later, he'd blown a hole in her roof and lit her flowerpot on fire.

The lady's singed white eyebrows crawled into her hairline. "Well. You're a finicky beast, aren't you. Give me the feathers."

Cyrus pulled out three separate tubes and placed them on the counter. Some wandless maneuvering on her part had the feathers laid out on a silk cloth in seconds. "Give me your wand hand," she commanded, floating a hand over the feathers. Cyrus gave her his right, as his left channeled the death stick, and watched with curious eyes as her white hair began to glow and the whites of her eyes absorbed her irises and pupils. What _was_ she, anyway?

A couple moments later, she released his hand and closed her eyes. "None of these feathers will sustain the connection you need. They'll burn out in days, and will probably explode and permanently damage you or someone else. As a wand-maker, I can't in good conscience make these for you."

Cyrus swore under his breath. "What am I supposed to do then?"

She opened her eyes and they were back to normal. "I can try to make a custom wand that will work for you, but I can't guarantee it. Follow me."

She led him into a back room, just as Ollivander did, and asked him to close his eyes and 'feel' for the ingredients.

He felt a twitch, but it was nowhere near the _calling_ he had felt with the dementor's blood. It led him to a long silver hair and a light brown stick. He called the wand-maker back into the room and showed her what's he'd chosen.

Her eyebrows rose. "Hair of a Siberian lion. You _are_ an expensive customer. They're nearly extinct, you know. Muggles don't even know they exist because they're protected by the ministries of the countries they live in." She held out her hands and he gave her the pieces. She held on to his right hand with one hand and the ingredients with the other. "No, not quite," she muttered under her breath. "But maybe…" She wandered back to the front of her shop and repeated the same exercise with both a phoenix feather and the hair.

"Bingo," she exclaimed, grinning. "This one might work. It's not a strong connection, but it's good enough that I'll make it for you. Just be careful how much power you pump through it at a time, okay? I know you powerhouses like showing off your fancy spells, but if you're not careful even _this_ wand will blow up in your face." She took the second phoenix feather, wrapped the hair around the shaft of the feather, and then jabbed them into the wood.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "I thought you couldn't use magic to carve a wand?"

She gave him _the look_. "Me? Wand-maker. You? Customer. I'm a fey, kid. We're a close relative of the faerie. Because we have close ties to death, our magic is different than humans, so it doesn't interrupt the flow of energy in a wand when we use it to carve the wood and put the core inside. Only humans and werewolves and stuff have that problem. Now, if you let me keep these two phoenix feathers, I'll only charge you 14 galleons for the wand."

He gaped. "What? Those feathers cost me 100 galleons!"

She raised an eyebrow. "And that wand would have cost you 130 galleons, kid. Siberian lion hairs are rare, and _I'm _not cheap."

Grumbling, he forked over the metal. She counted the money and handed him his wand, levitating the feathers to the back of her store for storage. When he picked up the wand, white sparks shot out of the end, and warmth spread through him. It wasn't the same feeling of contentment he'd had with his old wand, but it was the first wand he'd felt any level of connection with besides his death stick. Cautiously, he cast some of the spells he'd been managing wandless for the past couple months. When they worked, he grinned. Finally! Now he'd be able to catch up in Dark Arts and Their Defense. There were only so many spells you could manage wandless, and he'd been getting behind in the last couple weeks as they moved into highly complex dark arts and defensive spells.

"Thanks." Cyrus smiled and slipped the wand into his pocket. He'd need to go dig up the arm holster he'd bought from Ollivander later.

She grinned. "No prob, kid."

He apparated back to Shikaan.

_oOo_

"I want everyone to write a two foot essay on James Danish for next class. Focus on his development as a necromancer, and the events leading up to his death. Dismissed."

Cyrus waited for the class to leave the graveyard, but some of the students didn't have classes and were being slow. Letting out a breath, he walked towards Yankovich, book bag slung over his shoulder. "Professor?" He flinched slightly as the cold blue eyes settled on him.

"Yes, Obsidian?"

Cyrus licked his lips. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to participate more in class these past few weeks. I've been trying to find a proper wand for my natural magic, but it's been… difficult." The demon said nothing. "I-I've recently found a wand that might work, and I was wondering if I could join the rest of the class."

Yankovich held out his hand, and Cyrus pulled the wand from its hostler. Placing it on the demon's palm, he watched the cold features for any sign of… anything, really. Yankovich had been getting more and more short with him as the weeks passed by. With every class Cyrus's fear of failing increased. The marked papers he had gotten back were all above acceptable, but the practical held more weight in this course.

The demon's face gave nothing away. "Have you tried casting spells with this?"

Cyrus nodded. "But I haven't gone into the powerful one yet, and it won't let me cast Dark spells."

Yankovich nodded and handed it back. "I'd like to observe. Cast a simple spell, first."

When Yankovich's hand came to rest on Cyrus's shoulder, he shivered at the sensation of feeling magical arms that spread through his body. His body remembered the last time this had happened, and to his horror, he found blood rushing to his extremities. Glad that Yankovich was behind him and couldn't see the blush on his face, Cyrus cast a simple levitation charm at a vase of flowers that had been left next to a gravestone. His magic didn't respond as smoothly as it did with his death stick, but the spell still worked fine.

"Now, cast Avada Kedavra."

Obeying, Cyrus cast the spell at the vase of flowers. Nothing happened. The wand let out a few angry sparks, but didn't cast the spell.

"Cast the most powerful defensive spell you know."

The movements for the bubble spell he had used at the beginning of the year were short and simple, and soon they were surrounded by a gently glowing blue light. Cyrus frowned. It should have been stronger than that.

"Release it and cast the spell wandlessly. Don't adjust your wandless magic in result to the spell you just cast, just let it out the way you normally do."

Sheathing his wand, he called the spell into existence around them without any movements of his hand. He hadn't been able to do that before he'd stopped using his death stick. One upside to the whole fiasco. He smiled when the spell was strong, not gently glowing but solid. It was still translucent, but it was obviously much more powerful than when he'd used the wand.

"Interesting," Yankovich said, removing his hand.

Cyrus turned around, brows furrowed. "What's interesting?"

Yankovich raised a cool eyebrow. "That you spent so much time finding this wand, and yet it is still not good enough."

Cyrus felt like he'd been slapped. What had crawled up the demon's ass and died? It wasn't _his_ fault he couldn't find a new bloody wand that worked!

"Why haven't you found your old core? I was under the impression that you were going to locate it and have a new wand made from it."

Cyrus bit his lip. How could he explain what had happened, without Yankovich figuring out who he was?

When he was silent for two long, the demon snapped out, "Well?"

The human sighed. "I… I will do my best to find it this weekend, sir."

Yankovich nodded sharply. "You had better. If you don't find it within a week, you will be removed from my class and I will place a seal on your death magic. Have I made myself clear?"

Cyrus grit his teeth. "Yes sir. Perfectly clear."

Yankovich nodded and disapparated. Cyrus stood in the graveyard for a few moments, trying to swallow his anger. He knew that he couldn't expect to pass the class if he couldn't use his death magic, but Yankovich was going to _get rid of him?_ And seal his death magic? That… that pissed him off. But what bothered him even more was the fact that it was his own fault he was in this situation. He hadn't checked the ashes for his wand. He'd let his grief blind him, and now he was paying the price.

Letting out a sigh, he apparated back to his rooms. There was no point in going to his Animagus class. It was Friday and he had a school to burglarize.

_oOo_

"You're goin' _tonight?_"

Cyrus shot Xanthir an annoyed look as he shrunk all his runes references and put them in a mini bookcase so he could still see all the titles. It would be stupid of him to waste time looking for a book when he could just organize them all. _And _he still didn't know how long he'd have to find his feather after breaking the wards. Actually, he wasn't sure of much, and that hit a nerve.

"Yeah, so?"

Xanthir was staring at him with a dumb look on his face. "W-well, don't ya have to prepare or somethin'? I mean, if someone stole it from ya, they must have protections on it or somethin'."

Cyrus let out a frustrated breath. "I'm well aware of that, Xanthir. There's not much I can do at this point. Yankovich is going to pull me from his class and seal my death magic if I don't get this wand in a week. _I'm out of time_."

The werewolf watched him as he tore into his trunk again looking for any other books he might need.

"D'you have a _plan?_" Xanthir called down after him.

"No! You know what? I have no fucking idea how I'm going to get this feather, and I'd really not have you harassing me right now because I need to be focused in two hours!"

Xanthir made a face as he watched Cyrus climb back out of his trunk. "Why two hours?"

"Because that's when they'll be having dinner."

The werewolf blinked. "They? They who? There's more than one?"

Cyrus glared at him. "The person I'm stealing this from works at a school, okay? And he's probably got a billion different wards on his office, the door, his desk, and every other possible thing you can think of, alright?! And I'm going to be winging the whole thing!"

Xanthir grinned. "Well, at least you won't have a master plan to go sour."

Cyrus gave him a suffering look.

"Sounds like you could use an expert. How come you don't just hire a wards master? Seems like you got the money," Tara said from where she had appeared on his bed. He had no idea how she managed to get into his rooms every time without tripping a single spell, but it never ceased to irritate him. "Speaking of old family money, Obsidian isn't on the list. Which means your last name isn't really Obsidian."

Cyrus stared at her incredulously. "I have things to worry about right now, and satisfying your curiosity isn't one of them."

She actually pouted at him. "Fine. Be that way. But you didn't answer my other question. Why don't you just hire someone to do the job?"

"Personal reasons."

She rolled her eyes. "See if I try to help _you_ ever again," she muttered, and the next time he looked, she was gone.

Xanthir had a grin on his face, but Cyrus could see the worry in his eyes. "So, when'll you be back?"

"I don't know."

Two eyebrows rose. "Dude. You can't just leave school like that. The teachers are gonna _wonder_ if you miss too many classes. Do you have a back up plan? Or someone to pull yer ass outa the fire?"

Cyrus pursed his lips. "Well… maybe." He pulled out a slip of paper and wrote a quick message on it.

_S._

_I need to go to the potions store for some ingredients. Phoenix tears are so hard to come by these days. Sorry if I don't make it back on time. I'll do my best not to get delayed, but you might have to save me from that hag behind the counter. She has a really hard time letting go of rare products._

_C._

He folded the note and wrote 'Severus Snape' on another slip. He handed both to Xanthir. "If I'm not back by Monday, owl that to this person, okay?"

"Mkay." And then Xanthir shamelessly opened it and read, with Cyrus standing right there.

The human glared. "I didn't say you could read it."

The werewolf hummed noncommittally, a bizarre look on his face by the time he got to the end. "Not that it makes a lick a' sense."

Cyrus glared. "That's not the point, Xanthir. You should have _asked_. I wouldn't have had a problem with it."

The werewolf gave him a funny look. "You humans don't make sense. You're mad that I read it, but you _aren't_ mad I read it?"

The human rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just, _ask_ next time."

Xanthir shrugged and slipped the papers into a pocket. "I'll make sure to send it then. _If_ you don't get back on time. Where are you going, anyway? What country?"

Cyrus paused. "What does it matter?"

The werewolf shrugged again. "I was just gonna say, if you're headin' to the British Isles, be careful. Rumour is some weirdo wizard has been shish kabobin' people over there."

Blond eyebrows rose. _Voldemort?_ He hadn't heard of any activity, but he hadn't actively been _looking_ for information, either. Guilt made his stomach churn, but he pushed the feeling away. The snake did nothing all summer, and as soon as school came around he started raiding? Cyrus mentally shook his head. 'Then again, since when do psychos need to follow a logical schedule?' "I'll be careful. Thanks for the heads up."

Xanthir nodded and watched as Cyrus double-checked that everything was in place on his person. Mini-book case secured? Check. Healing and nutrient potions in boot? Check. Broom he'd borrowed from Xanthir? Check. Snake?

He walked into the kitchen where he'd put the snake on a magically heated rock. He'd decided yesterday that the kitchen was the place it was least likely to be disturbed by the comings and goings of his two… friends?

And the last thing on his list. Wands. His new wand was just where he left it, and the death stick was secured in the thigh hostler he'd had built into his basilisk armour. He frowned as his hand traced over the wand. If he were to go into Hogwarts in disguise, it would probably be best not to carry two wands around. Especially with one of them being so dangerous. With a sigh, he jumped into his trunk and hid the wand behind some books. What was the point of wanting to bring it, anyway? It wasn't like he could use it. Yankovich would kill him… He winced at the thought.

Feeling a couple pounds heavier, he climbed out of the trunk. He was pretty sure there was nothing else he needed.

"See you Monday, Xanthir," he said before closing the trunk and apparating away.

_oOo_

The Forbidden Forest was dark when he appeared near the outside entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. It had never been rich with animal activity, but given his circumstances the silence was eerie. With a shrug, he removed the snake from where she was wrapped around his waist and put her gently on the ground.

_This is a good forest,_ she hissed. _I shall remember your scent, speaker and smeller. Thank you for my snakelings._

He hissed her good wishes and watched as she slithered away. From his estimation, he was around 15 feet from the entrance. He and Snape had found it after they harvested the basilisk skin from the dead snake in September. It was outside the wards, so it was the only logical route to take. Remembering the spell Snape had used to hide Cyrus's magical signature from the wards when they came here before, he cast it on himself dubiously and sighed in relief when the spell settled around his shoulders. At least one thing was going right so far.

Looking around for the entrance of the Chamber, he spotted a familiar group of bushes and walked towards them. After picking his way through the brambles, he grinned as he caught sight of silver under dirt and grass. The entrance was much like a muggle manhole, not that he'd ever tell Slytherin that to his face. The only difference between the entrance and the muggle equivalent was that whereas the muggles had ladders leading downwards, this entrance had a steep incline not unlike a slide. It had been built for a basilisk, after all. Suddenly, the image of basilisks roaming free in the London Underground made him chuckle quietly under his breath.

Jumping on the lid, he waited for it to swivel on its axis. Snakes didn't have hands, after all, so all he needed to do was make it turn.

It didn't move.

Swearing under his breath, he racked his memory for a spell that would increase his weight. He didn't find one. When the hell would he have needed to increase his _weight?_

'Now, obviously, you retard.' Sighing to himself, he vowed to never underestimate the usefulness of a spell ever again. Wandless magic did have its limits, after all. He needed to know what the spell _was_ in order to cast it. Even if he didn't say the incantation or do the motions, his brain still associated certain magical reactions with the memories of them. Spells _existed_ because simply trying to exert your will on the world didn't make magic respond unfailingly. Sure, a bought of anger could make your magic lash out, but there was no directing that kind of power because it behaved wildly and unexpectedly.

He took a calming breath and sat down on top of the lid, casting a perimeter spell to warn him of any approaching object or being. It would be so very tragic for him to get mauled by a wolf while he was out here.

Damnit, he needed to focus. Taking out his new wand, he cast all the spells he knew that could move an object, but nothing worked. Had Slytherin charmed the thing to resist magic or what? Growling softly to himself, he sheathed the wand and thought up ways to increase his weight. The immediate solution his mind turned to was runes, but he wasn't entirely sure he could construct a spell from scratch yet. Sure, they were building theoretical spells in class, but Rivehn had told them that they couldn't sign up for spell crafting until they had finished second year runes, so they had never gone through all the steps of creating a spell and executing it.

Besides, he was on a clock. He couldn't just spend the next three hours mentally constructing a spell and expect it to work. Because if it _didn't_ work, he would be back to square one and three hours shorter. 'I guess I'll just have to get creative. What's the most backwards way to move something?' Then it hit him, and he smacked himself in the forehead. _Duh_. He'd been focusing on moving the _door_ instead of thinking what could he move _onto it _to make it move!

Grinning, he stepped off the giant disk and conjured a small boulder. Timing it just right, he managed to sneak in after the boulder before the lid closed again. Waving his hand, he made it disappear before it could get stuck in the piping.

He grinned. He was in.

_oOo_

A hissed '_open_' and the circular stone door swung open on its hinges. Cyrus brushed dust off his shoulders as the vibrations of the moving door shook particles loose. As he stepped out into the main chamber, he made a face at the smell of death. The snakeskin had probably prevented most critters from feasting on the carcass of the dead basilisk, but to be honest he was surprised it hadn't composed more already. Perhaps the venom kept all but the most tenacious bugs from composting it?

Shrugging, he walked by the body and made his way towards the partially caved in entrance. It took him a few minutes to get there, but once he had he waved most of the remaining rocks out of his way. He didn't particularly feel like crawling over them and breaking an ankle. This early in the game, he wouldn't chance it.

Just before reaching the slide, he remembered his plan to disguise himself. If he got caught and discovered as Harry Potter, his current blond-haired and tan-skinned disguise would no longer be safe. And as that was the face Shikaan knew him by, he couldn't exactly change it if he blew his cover. Pulling out his wand, he cast the spells that Snape and Remus had taught him before he left Britain, except this time he was changing his hair to brown, his skin to pale white, and his eyes to brown. With a grim set to his lips, he walked over to the slide.

It was as gooey as he remembered. Making a face, he enlarged the broomstick he had borrowed from Xanthir, glad the werewolf had decent taste. A Nimbus 2000 sat in his hand. It was an older make than what was currently available, but it reminded him of his first broom and that brought a warm smile to his face. He still felt a hole in his chest at the thought of his burned Firebolt, however. And Sirius. Shaking the morose thoughts away, he mounted the broom and carefully flew up the long tubing, careful not to scrape the sides on his way up.

When he'd reached the top, he paused. Normally nobody was in this bathroom, but if a student _was_ and alerted a teacher to his presence, he wasn't going to get very far. Humming quietly to himself, he wracked his brain for a spell that could reveal life or heat signatures.

Once again, nothing. Scowling to himself, he vowed to learn some more useful spells. He'd been studying far too many offensive and defensive ones, completely ignoring anything else that might come in handy.

Getting an idea, he closed his eyes and let his rune sight take over. He'd stumbled across the name of it in a rune text about a month back. Apparently there hadn't been someone born with the ability in the last five hundred years. He didn't care about breaking the record. He just knew that if students were around, it would let him see them via the spells on their clothes, or on their books.

He saw nothing.

Shrugging, he hissed '_open_', keeping his ears open for frightened noises that could belong to a student.

Aside from the grating of the sinks as they moved, there was silence. Letting out a breath, he flew out of the hole and landed on familiar floors. Smiling at the sight of the school he had considered home for five years, he cast an invisibility spell on himself and hissed at the sinks to close again. He waited until they had stopped moving before leaving the bathroom.

Casting a silencing spell on his feet and clothes, Cyrus slipped into the hallway. He had to get all the way up to the seventh floor in order to get to Dumbledore's office, which meant he had to use the staircases. Biting his lip, he set out for them, hoping they wouldn't change too many times and screw up his destination, or that a portrait would discover him.

As it turned out, the school was on his side because he only had to wait on two staircases for them to move back to where he needed them, and the portraits hadn't noticed a thing.

Walking down the hallway to Dumbledore's office, he came across the first student. Resisting the urge to swear, he sidled up against the wall as she made her way by. What was she doing on the seventh floor during dinnertime? Shaking his head, he continued down the hall until he came to the gargoyle.

Biting his lip, he renewed the silencing spell and invisibility spells on his person and sat between a flowerpot and a suit of armour on the floor across from the office entrance. Closing his eyes, he let his rune sight take over his vision again. Might as well see how much he could sift through this far away. If he could put off breaking into Dumbledore's office until he absolutely needed to, his chances of being discovered would lessen.

The sheer amount of magic in this area of the castle nearly blinded him at first. He could see the enchantment on the gargoyle, he could see the spell that allowed the stairs beyond it to rotate, he could see a plethora of spells on the door so thick he could barely see between the runes, and beyond that in the coot's office was a ball of light so intense he could barely distinguish between spells. He cursed mentally. Why oh _why_ did the old man have to keep so many enchanted objects in his office? Cyrus could remember destroying quite a few of them in his fifth year, but obviously they had been replaced.

Taking a deep breath to still the panic building in his throat, Cyrus reached into his bag and pulled out a pad of paper and pencil. He started tediously jotting down every spelled object as he analyzed them, so he would know for sure that his phoenix feather wasn't one of them.

Every time he finished with one object, he would focus on ignoring it and the light would slowly dim until it was a dull glow. Being able to 'move' his eye around helped immensely as well. He got dizzy the first time he tried it, but after that he found it a lot easier to 'feel' around the spells and dismiss the ones that weren't important.

He had finished cataloguing half of the smaller balls of spells when he heard footsteps down the hall. Quickly, he pocketed his notebook and raced in the other direction. He didn't know if it was Dumbledore, but he did _not_ want to find out. He would continue his search later that night, when there was little chance of being tripped over by a wayward student, or the coot himself.

He made it back to the Chamber with some creative dodging and much use of secret passageways. The journey back took him five times as long. He took his time, though, carefully dodging around students as they made their way through the halls. After all, if it got around that someone had bumped into an 'invisible person', the first conclusion on Dumbledore's mind might be Harry Potter.

And Cyrus really didn't need that on his first day back.

_oOo_

It was midnight when Cyrus returned to the seventh floor, confident nobody would be wandering about. He'd taken a nap in the Chamber to conserve his energy, and now he was raring to go. He finished the rest of the trinkets in the office in another two hours, and had his eye trained on something that looked suspiciously like what Cyrus was looking for. He didn't want to get his hopes up, though, so he moved on to the wards now that he had a record of every object.

He studied the door for ten minutes before he started getting a headache. There were too many runes that he was unfamiliar with. With the enchantments he'd been able to get the 'gist' of the spells, but with the wards he didn't want to take any chances. Catching himself before he growled under his breath, he pulled out his mini bookcase and plucked out the fattest tomb. His dictionary.

A tiny floating light illuminated the text, and he renewed the invisibility spell to hide the light it produced. Turning to a new page in his notebook, he started copying down the sequences.

It was going to be a long night.

_oOo_

It was halfway through the next night, Saturday night (or was that Sunday morning?), that Cyrus gave up on trying to understand the runes as he wrote them down, and just started copying as quickly as he could. The runes on the door he had finished earlier that night, but the wards they were _linked_ to, which encapsulated the entire office and subsequently linked to Dumbledore's _rooms_, were just as complicated and large. He managed to finish the copying of all the wards in the office, as well as the curious smaller ward in the office itself, before breakfast. But just barely. He'd had to hide behind the gigantic flowerpot when Dumbledore had come out of his office. Remembering the time the old wizard had seen through his invisibility cloak, he prayed to Hogwarts the old coot wouldn't find him.

But Dumbledore just walked right past, whistling a little tune, completely oblivious to how close he'd been to finding 'Potter'.

Dead tired, Cyrus closed his notebook and put it in his bag, making his way down the hallways and to the Chamber. Close call.

"Really, Ron. You shouldn't have slept in so late! It isn't my job to get you out of bed for _your_ Quidditch practices!"

Cyrus's heart froze in his chest.

"Stop being so dramatic, Hermione! I've got enough time to eat and get to the pitch."

The female voice scoffed. "Really, now? Well next time I _won't_ wake you up, and then you can explain to your team why they all had to get up early on a Sunday while their captain was sleeping peacefully in bed!"

"Hermiiioneee," Ron whined just as Cyrus saw them come around the corner. He jumped to the side, just barely avoiding running into the redhead. In his panicked hurry to avoid collision, however, he knocked over a suit of armour. It took all his willpower to not swear out loud. The silencing charm wouldn't cover his voice.

"Ron! You are so clumsy," Hermione scolded, and Cyrus couldn't help but stare at her familiar face even as he stumbled away from the suit he'd run into. They looked just as he remembered them. He wondered if they were angry with him for forgetting them. A stab of guilt joined the roiling pot of anxiety in his stomach.

"It wasn't me, honest!"

She rolled her eyes, obviously not believing him. "Of course, Ron." She waved her wand at the suit and it reconstructed itself before their eyes.

"Wow, Hermione. You really do know a spell for everything."

She blushed and put her wand back in her pocket. "Nonsense, Ron. If you read books too, you would have known that spell."

Cyrus couldn't see their faces anymore as they walked away, but he could imagine the scrunched freckles of Ron's nose. "I prefer Quidditch."

She hooked her arm into his and smiled the smile of a normal person indulging the retarded. "I know you do."

He watched them go, unsure of the feelings churning in his stomach. Did he miss them? Somewhat. Did he miss them enough to do something about it? He wasn't sure. He felt guilty for forgetting them in the rush of learning at Shikaan, but he wasn't sure how he felt about the situation he currently found himself in. They didn't look like they missed him. 'Don't be stupid, Obsidian. Just because they're smiling doesn't mean they don't miss you,' a reasonable voice that sounded like Tara interjected in his mind. He smiled softly at the memory of his new friends. They weren't conventional by any means, but he had enjoyed their company (for the most part) during the past few months. Friends like Hermione and Ron didn't exist in the new world he was living in.

Letting out a soft sigh, he turned away from the distant bickering pair and returned to the chamber. He needed sleep, and then he needed to start analyzing the wards he had copied. He needed to make his move tonight. Technically he had until Friday by Yankovich's clock to get the feather, but he didn't want to miss any more classes than necessary. He was already behind in DATD, and nearly colossally screwed in Necromancy.

Pushing the negative thoughts out of his mind, he flew back into the Chamber and closed it behind him.

Sleep, first. Worrying later.

_oOo_

Six hours of sleep and four hours of hair-pulling later, Cyrus had a pretty good grasp on the wards he wanted to slip through. The office door was going to be the most difficult. The wards had a 'tamper alert' sub-spell written into them. If they were disabled in any way, an alarm would immediately be set off. Cyrus figured, since the anchor wasn't connected to the 'tamper alert' spell, he could shift the spell onto another object instead of the door. Almost like what he did with the shield spell in Weapons and Battle earlier that week.

After that were the wards on the office itself, which would alert Dumbledore to somebody or something at the window, or would tell him if someone was in the room casting spells left and right. He wouldn't be able to shift the focus of this spell, as it wasn't set on one object like the door. No, it was set right into the foundations of the room, with multiple anchors to hold it in place. Scowling down at the sheet of paper in front of him, Cyrus tapped the eraser against the desk he'd conjured in the Chamber. The office ward would probably not cause him any problems unless he tried casting a spell. Interfering with _existing_ spells, however, probably wouldn't affect it. At least, that was what his reading of the runes told him.

He hoped he was right.

And lastly, there was the smaller ward on an object in the room. The ward itself prevented the object from being seen to his eye, but he was pretty sure it was his feather. What else would Dumbledore be hiding up there? Once he had his feather, he had every intention of getting out of Hogwarts and never coming back.

And then the memory of Hermione and Ron dropped a ball of anxiety into his stomach. Was he ever going to see them again? Did he _want_ to?

He still wasn't sure.

_oOo_

Cyrus stood in front of the gargoyle Sunday night and cast a silencing spell around himself. He didn't want the paintings to hear him naming every single candy he could think of. He figured he could have done a runic analysis of the gargoyle as well, but was pretty sure guessing candies would be easier.

He was on the twelfth muggle candy he knew when the gargoyle jumped aside. He wasn't sure how much time he would have until Dumbledore got there, but hopefully the dinner would keep him delayed until Harry had what he wanted.

He ran up the rotating stairs, not bothering to wait until they took him up. The hallway before the door to Dumbledore's office was just as he remembered it. Wandlessly, he conjured a door to lie against the wall beside him, putting enough magic into it to keep it in existence for at least a day. Closing his eyes, he activated his rune sight and looked at the real door. Reaching out to get a hold of the anchoring sequence of runes, he gently shifted _which_ door the ward was supposed to be locked onto. It latched onto its new target without mishaps, and Cyrus let out a relieved breath. While the door wards were attached to the office wards, their physical _location_ didn't much matter in the scheme of things, which allowed Cyrus to open the door without a fuss.

He grinned. He was in! Glancing around the office, he froze when he caught sight of Fawkes's empty perch. It had been stupid of him to forget about the bird. Sighing in relief that the phoenix wasn't there, he flashed back and forth between his sights to locate the small ward that he was sure held his phoenix feather. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the ward was inside one of Dumbledore's drawers. Did the man think his desk was safe? Probably. He grinned and wondered if anybody had ever stolen into this office before.

Shaking his head, he focused. He had a job to do, and he was almost done. Reaching for the drawer, he checked for any nasty surprises before pulling it open. A box sat inside. Cyrus frowned. That couldn't be his phoenix feather. It was too small. He resisted the urge to swear. He was sure one of the office portraits had already reported an intruder to Dumbledore, so he wasn't sure how much time he had left.

Closing his eyes, he quickly transferred the anchor to a quill on Dumbledore's desk. Reaching into the drawer, he pulled the box out and opened it inside his cloak.

A ring sat inside. A _ring_. With a stone that was cracked down the center. Raising an incredulous eyebrow, he checked the ring for spells. Nothing. Shrugging, he stuck it on his finger and transfigured another quill into a copy. Sticking it in the box, he moved the ward back onto it and closed the drawer. All the while, anger sizzled in his stomach.

Where the _fuck_ was his feather.

He hadn't caught sight of any other warded objects in the room, so maybe the feather hadn't been warded? Fear and anger making his stomach churn, he started rifling through the desk in search of his objective.

A minute later he still hadn't found it.

His eyes tearing across the room, he looked for anything that could hide a feather and came up with nothing. Aside from the desk, all there was in this office was books, books, and trinkets. Swearing under his breath, he reluctantly decided to cut his losses and made a break for the door. Hastily, he moved the wards back onto their proper door and banished the copy from the hallway. Just as he made his way to the stairs, however, he heard a _whoosh_ of fire behind him.

_Shit_. Impulsively, he took the ring off his finger and swallowed it. If he was getting caught, he was at least keeping the stupid object that Dumbledore had cast such a powerful ward on. Grabbing Xanthir's broom, he jumped on it and raced down the steps and out the gargoyle.

"Accio broomstick!"

Cyrus's eyes widened as he felt the wood between his legs snap through the air in order to go to the caster of the spell. Using his wandless magic, he tried to throw the spell to no effect. Wide eyed, panic rose from his stomach like heartburn (or maybe it was the metal he'd swallowed?), wrenching sense from his mind. He was caught. Oh god Dumbledore had caught him. He didn't want to go back didn't want to go _back!_ With a mighty shove of magic, he threw off the accio spell.

Just in time to get hit with a stupefy.

The last thing Cyrus knew before he hit the ground was the sight of Dumbledore's swirling robes.

_-Toki Mirage-_

Now, before you all send assassins after me, I must defend this evil cliffhanger. Chapter nine is almost completely planned, so the writing won't take as long as my usual 3 months-between updates. So please don't send the assassins. (puppy dog eyes)

And besides, you're all lucky this update came out so early. What's it been, a week? Two? Yeesh. I never do this much writing. :)

Hope you liked the chapter! Lots of shit going down in the next one. Many of your questions about what's going on in the wizarding world and with Ron and Hermione will be answered. Have no fear. (evil grin) My muse and I pounded out the skeleton for this chapter in two hours. Since we've figured out most of the plot holes already, things should hopefully go smoothly.

Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter Nine: Hogwarts

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Nine:

_oOo_

He had a headache. A pounding headache. And his body felt like it'd been hit by a truck.

"Ah, good. You're awake. I was beginning to think the _ennervate_ wouldn't work."

His blood turned to ice in his veins at the familiar, grandfatherly tone, but he could hear a note of weariness in the voice that hadn't been there at the beginning of the year. Painfully pushing his head off his chest, he looked up into twinkling blue eyes. He tried to move and found himself tied to a chair, with his hands cuffed in front of him.

"Who are you, and what were you doing in my office?"

The twinkle continued, and Cyrus wondered if it was a spell or the old man trying to use legilimency. Cyrus could never feel when someone tried to use it on him, so he was glad that he had figured out his alternate method occlumency. Whether it was a spell or natural, however, Cyrus was sure there was no way Dumbledore could be _happy_ after someone had broken into his office. Summoning his magic, he tried to break his binds. When nothing happened, his heart skipped a beat in terror.

When Cyrus's silence continued, the old man walked toward his desk with a put-upon sigh. "It's unfortunate that you won't share this information. I'm afraid the alarms pulled me from a Wizengamot meeting. Otherwise I would be happy to stay here and get my answers." He pulled something out of a desk and Cyrus paled at the sight of veritaserum. He wouldn't.

"Three drops of this, my boy, and you'll tell me everything I need to know. I keep a bottle in my office at all times now that my last Potions Master deserted. It's too bad, he was quite useful."

Cyrus struggled against the chair he was tied to, summoning his wandless magic again to help him. Nothing happened. Eyes wide, he tried again.

"I'm afraid even accidental magic won't help you, my boy. Those are magic-suppressing cuffs on your wrists. A recent acquisition from one of my associates in Egypt." Blue eyes twinkled.

Before Cyrus could twitch, the old man had him by the nose. He held his breath for as long as he could, but eventually his need for air overpowered his need for silence and he gasped in a breath. Three drops fell into his mouth, and he nearly inhaled one of them. Already he could feel the effects as his mind numbed and a dull haze came over his vision.

_Shit!_

"What is your full name?"

He bit his tongue as his mouth moved to follow the order, and what came out was a garbled mess.

Dumbledore frowned. "What is your name?"

Cyrus choked as the veritaserum forced him to answer. "Ha-arry James Potter."

Twinkling blue eyes widened in surprise. "H-Harry? My dear boy, is that you?"

"Y-yes," he choked out. Revulsion turned his stomach as a hand came to his face and caressed his cheek. He felt his body tingle.

"Ah yes, there we are. That was quite the disguise, Harry. Permanently changing your appearance? Dangerous, that is. Since this disguise is new, however, it was easy for me to undo." The old wizard smiled at the look of horror on Cyrus's face.

"Now. What are you doing in my office?"

"Sitting here." Take that, you old bastard!

"What _were_ you doing in my office?"

He choked. "I-I was s-searching for m-my fe- eather."

"You're phoenix feather, my boy?"

"Yes."

He watched with angry eyes as Dumbledore reached into his robes and produced a long, red feather. "This one?"

His eyes widened. "Y-yes."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something when the fire abruptly turned green. With a wave of the old coot's wand, Cyrus disappeared from sight and was silenced. He frowned as he noticed for the first time that Dumbledore wielded his wand with his left hand. His eyes jumped to the right and saw nothing but folds of fabric. Had it been cut off or something?

"Albus? What's going on? You left the meeting so suddenly," a female head spoke from where she floated in the flames. Cyrus tried to scream help, but no sound escaped.

"Ah, no need to worry, Gertrude. I'll return in a moment."

The elderly lady smiled at him. "See that you do. We're almost finished." And with that said, she disappeared from the fire.

Dumbledore turned back to Cyrus and removed the spells. "Well, it would seem our time together must be delayed until a more opportune moment. I _will_ get my answers from you, Harry. You are not going anywhere."

And the last thing Cyrus remembered was the red light of a stupefy.

_oOo_

When Cyrus woke up, it was to the sight of stone floor and a bone-deep chill. He still wore his basilisk armour, but he couldn't feel the familiar weight of his pouch, and when he shifted his arms together he couldn't feel the telltale bump of his new wand, either. Swearing softly under his breath, he pushed his body into a sitting position, wincing the whole way. How long had he been on the floor? His right side was numb, and sore. Rolling his shoulders, he heard multiple cracks.

Looking around himself, he peered through the dark light and thought he could see bars for one wall. Great. Hogwarts had dungeons, didn't it? It _had_ been built nearly a thousand years ago.

His stomach growled, the sound echoing off the walls encasing him. Swearing under his breath, he reached for his boot, not very hopeful that he would find his nutrient potions.

Nope. Empty. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying once again to use his magic. Nothing happened. He tried his rune sight, and nothing happened. Reaching curiously for his death magic, he felt it twitch and stir, but still not move under his will.

He swore louder.

"Did you hear that, Hermione? Do you think it's him?"

"I didn't hear anything, Ron."

Cyrus hit his head against the wall behind him. Fuck. Just what he… he paused. This could work to his advantage, if he could convince them that he was genuine.

"Hermione? Ron?" he called out, making sure his voice was hopeful and confused.

"Harry! See? I told you I heard him! Harry! Where are you?"

Cyrus smiled grimly. "Over hear! Just follow my voice!"

He saw a light shining beyond the bars and tried to push himself to his feet with no success. His right side was still numb from the cold and the stone.

"There you are! We haven't seen you in forever, Harry. Where have you been?"

Cyrus's eyebrow twitched. "Where do you think I am? I'm stuck in this cell!"

Ron came around the corner with a wide grin. "I can see that, mate."

Hermione gasped as she saw him on the floor. "Harry!"

Cyrus grit his teeth. 'Stop saying my bloody name already!' "Hey, Hermione." He smiled. "Do you guys think you can help me out?" He tried to stand again to inspire pity, and did moderately better this time. He limped over to the bars.

"Wow, Harry! You're in cuffs! Why's that?"

Cyrus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'I'm in a cage, you idiot. As in, prisoner? How daft can you _be?_' He certainly hadn't missed this side of the redhead.

"Harry?" Hermione asked with a trembling voice when he was silent in thought.

"It doesn't matter, just get me out of here," he pleaded, putting the most honest expression he could on his face.

And then, Ron smiled. "Dumbledore said you'd try and convince us to let you out."

Cyrus froze, eyes shooting between Ron's smug expression and Hermione's worrying lip. He was silent for a few moments before finally asking, "Where _is_ Dumbledore? I'm surprised he'd send you down here on your own."

Ron grinned. "Why would you be? You're trapped in magic sealing cuffs and the wards on these bars. You're not leaving us again, Harry."

Cyrus stared at him. "You don't _care_ that I'm being held here against my will?"

Ron shrugged. "Dumbledore knows what he's talking about. He says that we need you in order for Voldemort to be defeated." Suddenly, he glared. "Where _have_ you been, anyway? Voldemort's been raiding and killing people since school started, and you haven't _been here_!"

Cyrus looked at Hermione. She was silent, staring at the two of them with a worried expression. Since when had _Ron_ done all the talking?

"Hey!" Ron shouted. "I asked you a question, Harry! Why did you run away?!"

Cyrus glared at him. "Where's Dumbledore?" he asked. The Weasley still hadn't answered his question from earlier.

"He's out there helping people, like you should be! Voldemort attacked _ten_ wizarding families last night. We still don't know if there were any survivors. Dumbledore and the rest of the Order are out there trying to find them!"

Cyrus looked at Hermione, who was silently crying. What was her problem?

"So you answer _my_ question, _where have you been?!_"

Sick of Ron's shouting, he turned around and walked back to the far wall. This was a pointless conversation. Dumbledore had probably sent them as familiar faces to try and get information while the old coot was otherwise occupied. But Cyrus wasn't going to share anything. While he had been away, learning new things and becoming a _fighter,_ these two had been sitting on their arses in their perfect little worlds wondering where their 'savior' was. It was pathetic. It was _unfair_. Why was _he_ expected to do all the work? Stupid prophecy.

With a grunt, he slid down the wall and closed his eyes, tuning out the redhead ranting in front of him. He let out a soft sigh, trying to ignore the _disappointment _that twisted his stomach into knots. They weren't his friends anymore. Real friends would have tried to break him out instead of gloating or crying outside the bars with stupid expressions on their faces. And _Hermione_. Since when had Ron been the brains of the outfit? He would have expected her to either lecture him out of concern or for 'the greater good'.

What a load of crock.

"C'mon, Hermione. He obviously doesn't have a good excuse for abandoning us. Let's go." While Ron turned and walked away, Hermione stood behind, watching Cyrus with wet eyes.

"I-it's okay, Ron. I'll meet up with you in a few minutes."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." And walked away.

Cyrus and Hermione watched each other until Ron's footfalls fell to silence. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't seem to know what she wanted to say. Finally, she spoke.

"We worried, you know." When Cyrus snorted, she frowned. "_I_ worried. When Dumbledore told us you went missing-" Her throat choked off with tears. She bit her lip and swallowed. "Well, I didn't know what to think. I thought… why would Harry run away? You've always been so courageous, running into dangerous obstacles in order to help others. Where did you go?" She wiped tears from her eyes. "Where did our Harry go?"

Cyrus looked away, chewing on his cheek. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, 'Mione. As Ron is stuck in his own little world of denial, so are you." She sniffled. "_Dumbledore_ isn't some saint, Hermione. Don't you remember anything you've learned in the muggle world? It's like the Americans and World War II. Just because they _won the war_ doesn't mean that they were righteous. Or _good_. It just means that they won. And winners are the ones who write the history books."

She wiped all traces of tears, and Cyrus felt a bud of affection grow as he saw the familiar look of books and books of knowledge in her eyes. "Are you saying that Dumbledore is a bad person?"

Cyrus sighed. "I'm trying to tell you to start thinking for yourself, 'Mione. Just because Dumbledore leads the side of the 'Light' doesn't mean that he's _right_. And just because Voldemort went insane looking for immortality doesn't mean that some of the things he used to fight for aren't _good_. I'm not saying that I support the maniac in any way, but the wizarding world is _incredibly_ prejudiced against anyone who is different from what they deem acceptable. Werewolves, vampires, those who learn dark magic… Just because it's Dark doesn't mean that it's _evil_ Hermione."

She frowned at him. "But what does this have to do with you running away?"

Cyrus tried to run an impatient hand through his hair, but the cuffs impeded the familiar motion. He scowled down at them. "I left because I know without a doubtthat Dumbledore is not a good person. He would sacrifice any one of us if it meant he could win this little war of his, Hermione. He put _compulsions_ in my mind to keep me from thinking for myself. So you wonder why I've changed? It's because I no longer have a choke chain wrapped around my neck!"

A hand flew to her mouth. "C-compulsions? I've never read anything about those before."

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "Not everything is written in books, Hermione."

She remained silent, biting her lip and staring at him thoughtfully. "And how do I know that you're telling me the truth, Harry?" she whispered quietly, her voice sounding as broken as the expression on her face.

He stared at her, not believing that she had just asked him that question. "You have known me for five years, Hermione. If you believe some senile old _headmaster_ over your own experience of our friendship, then I don't want to talk to you any more."

She stared at him, uncomprehending. "B-but, Harry, I just-"

"No! You know what? I'm sick of this world. I'm sick of this school, and I'm _sick_ of my so-called 'friends' calling me liars and turning their backs on me! When I told you I wasn't the heir of Slytherin, Ron turned his back on me. When I _told_ you I hadn't put my name in the hat, _Ron_ thought I was looking for _attention!_ Have you noticed a trend, Hermione? Is this it for you, too? Are you going to turn away from me now, like Ron has? When I need you most?" When she said nothing, he couldn't stand to look at her. With that _lost_ expression on her face. "If our friendship still meant anything to you, you'd be helping me escape right now. But instead, here we are." He glared at the wall.

She was silent for a few minutes, and Cyrus could hear her sniffling and wiping tears from her eyes. She asked him where _he_ had gone, but where the hell was _she?_

"E-even i-if I kn-new how to g-get you out of h-here, Harry, w-which I d-don't, then what would y-you do? Leave?" she asked through her tears.

He scowled. "Yes."

She was silent for a moment. "We used to f-follow you everywhere, Harry." He turned to look her in the eyes. "But I'm not s-sure I can follow you to this place you're going."

He glared at her. "Then leave. And don't expect me to come running to your aid when you finally figure out what's really going on in this world."

She nodded and slowly walked away.

_oOo_

He couldn't tell the passage of time down in the dungeon, but it was around what he would guess to be suppertime that he finally heard something. He couldn't hear footsteps, per say, but he swore that he could hear the quiet_ swish_ of robes.

"There you are. I was wondering how deep into the dungeons Dumbledore put you. Spectacular job getting yourself caught, Obsidian."

Cyrus wanted to glare at the insult to his intelligence, but he was far too happy that Snape was here. Slowly pushing himself to his feet, his body lethargic from lack of food, he grinned. "Good to see you too, Snape. Call me Potter while I look like this, though. Don't want Dumbles getting any ideas."

The vampire snorted. "Too true." Then a more serious expression overtook his face as he did some wand waving over the bars. "This ward is complicated. I'm not sure I'll be able to remove it. Why haven't you broken it yourself, as you did with the wards at the Dursleys?"

Cyrus held up his chained hands and the vampire nodded.

"I'll see what I can-" He stopped talking and looked down the hallway. "I thought I heard something," he said a moment later when he saw the confused look on Cyrus's face. "I'll do my best to remove the wards, but I am unsure wheth-" Suddenly, he collapsed to the ground. Cyrus ran to the bars in concern.

"Snape? Snape! What the he-"

"Why Harry, I do believe I now understand how you were able to escape from Grimmauld place. I never suspected Severus would help you. Very clever."

Cyrus backed away from the bars as Dumbledore's floating head came into view. He stared in disbelief.

Dumbledore smiled jovially as he opened the cell across from Cyrus's and moved Snape's still body inside. He cast a few spells on the man and the bars before he closed the door and locked it. When Dumbledore turned around, Cyrus was still staring at the bobbing head.

"Ah! Are you admiring your invisibility cloak? I have to admit, Harry, I was rather reluctant to let it go all those Christmases back. It's a terribly useful tool when one wishes to be unseen."

Cyrus stared. "B-but, that burned with all my other belongings!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, your belongings burned, but the blanket under the ashes was in fact your cloak, Harry. Like the phoenix feather, it holds properties that prevent it from being destroyed so easily."

Cyrus glared. "What did you do with my _other_ belongings?"

Dumbledore 'tutted'. "Now Harry, don't be so unreasonable. I had to take them to prevent your escape." He smiled, pulling a wand out of his robes. "It's quite the interesting wand you have, Harry. Though it won't help you fight Tom." He cracked it in half.

Pure _rage_ exploded inside Cyrus, and the magical cuffs binding his wrists began to grow hot on his skin as he fought against their hold. "How dare you! It took me ages to find that wand, and it cost me 114 galleons!"

Dumbledore gave him a disappointed look. "Really, Harry. You are fussing too much over a wand that is not suited for you. When you have returned to Hogwarts, I will take the feather to Ollivander and have him make a new one for you."

Cyrus couldn't believe the audacity of the man in front of him. "You can't control me, Dumbledore! You may break my wand, you may lock me in this cage, but I will _never_ return to being you blind little lap dog!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Now see, that's where you wrong, my dear boy." He raised his wand and cast a gold spell through the bars. Cyrus sluggishly dodged. He was still weak from not eating all day. "Stop moving, Harry, it will only make this process more trying than it needs to be."

It was the fifth spell that hit Cyrus after Dumbledore tricked him with a fake cast and caught him mid-roll. He hit the ground with a thud and felt like his brain was on fire. He screamed.

Pain.

His mind felt like it was liquefying. Terrified, Cyrus sank into his magic and looked for the floating ball that was his mind. The pain numbed slightly under the warmth of his magic, but just enough so he could _think_. When he finally found the ball, he dragged it back to his core and opened it up. The web was being attacked by vines of gold in every direction. There was no end to it! Mentally slapping himself, he tried to remember before, when Snape had helped him burn out the infestation the first time. Sinking into the depths of his mind, he searched for the seeds from which the brambles were growing, tracing the vines of gold as they thickened.

As he went deeper he felt the vines begin to eat away at his logic. While his mind fought the intrusion, he flashed between knowing where he was and having no fucking clue. Finally, he found the source of his pain and let his magic pour into his mind and burn out the infection, heading straight for the seed. Soon he felt himself drowning in the power as it went to work on healing damage and burning out the bramble. He didn't know when the pain ended, but when he finally returned to awareness he was wrapped around a knot of webs floating in magic.

If he had eyes, he would have blinked at the sight of his mind drowned in magic. Instead, he mentally slapped himself into focus and started draining the webs. When the structure was magic free once again, and he could sense no evidence of brambles, he pulled it together into the ball again and locked it up tight.

Satisfied that it was secure and safe, he let himself fall out of his magic.

_oOo_

"Potter? Potter! Wake up, you blundering, stupid, flesh-bag with maggots for a brain! What the hell were you thinking coming here damnit Potter WAKE UP!"

Cyrus rolled over with a groan. Ugh. Déjà vu.

"Finally! I have been trying to get you out of that trance for hours now. Dumbledore left a while ago, called away by the Order of the Phoenix. Are you hearing me, Potter?"

"Yes, yes. Stop yelling you overgrown bat." Groaning some more, he pulled himself over to the bars and looked at the angry face of Snape.

"Don't you take that tone with me, you ungrateful brat," he sneered. "I didn't have to come out here and save you, you sorry excuse for a human!"

Cyrus didn't think he'd ever seen Snape that angry before, but it didn't stop him from scowling at the vampire. "Oh really? Well, I looks to me like you got yourself caught _too_, your sorry excuse for a vampire!"

Snape hissed at him, and Cyrus couldn't help but laugh. He'd never thought he'd see Snape do something so undignified. He must be _incensed_. "I will flay you alive when I get out of here, Potter. See if I ever try to save your worthless skin again."

Cyrus grinned half-heartedly. "Well, I'm glad that I can still piss you off. Some familiarity is nice when you're stuck god knows how many feet underground with a psycho stalker bent on turning you to the 'Light'," he said mockingly.

To his surprise, Snape smirked. "And I'm glad that you aren't bending yourself into a pretzel trying to kiss the old man's ass."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why Snape, I never knew you had it in you." They shared amused looks before sobering at the situation. "Where _is_ the bastard, anyway? After he tried to melt my brain into a pile of goo you'd think he'd stick around long enough to see if it worked."

Snape shook his head. "He would believe he succeeded. But aside from his superiority complex, that is not actually the reason he left."

Cyrus blinked. "Really? What happened, exactly?"

The vampire looked supremely annoyed. "It seems the Ministry and Order are far more incompetent than I calculated." His thin lips twitched. "I had arranged for there to be an additional Death Eater raid on a town some distance away from here, but apparently the incompetents didn't find out until an _hour _after it happened." He scowled. "That was why Dumbledore caught me." He muttered to himself, "Never will I give these idiots any amount of credit ever again."

Cyrus smiled half-heartedly and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and wished that he would be back in his room when he opened them. He peaked. Stone ceiling. Damnit.

"Snape?"

"What?"

"What's Dumbledore going to-"

"Quiet! Someone's coming."

Cyrus blinked and listened. He couldn't hear it for a few moments, but eventually he could hear a set of footsteps making their way towards them. He frowned. The steps were light and close together, but it didn't sound like they were in a hurry. When Ron of all people came into view, his eyes widened. What the heck was _he_ doing here?

"Hey Harry!"

Cyrus stared at the happy face incredulously.

"And wow, Snape! When did you get here? Musta been some time today." He grinned and walked over to the bars. Snape gave him the glare of death. "You don't scare me. Professor Dumbledore probably has wards on these, like with Harry. What I wanna know is whether spells can be cast into them…" Pulling out his wand, he cast an expelliarmus on the vampire that sent him careening into the back wall. Cyrus pushed himself onto his feet in alarm. What the hell?! Frantically peering through the bars, he sighed in relief when it seemed Snape was okay.

Ron grinned. "Wow, they do. That's cool." He turned around and saw Cyrus. "So, Harry. I came to have a little chat with you." The redhead conjured a chair.

"Wow, Ron. I didn't know you could _conjure_. You must have been practicing since I left." He grinned when Ron looked annoyed.

"Ha ha, really funny." He sat down with a glare, his face turning red. "Dumbledore hasn't been here to pry the information from you, but _I_ want to know where you've been. So start talking."

Cyrus stared at him incredulously. The redhead didn't _actually_ believe that Cyrus would just roll over and spill his secrets, did he? "If you think I'm going to talk just because _you_ told me to, Weasley, then you're more mentally challenged than I thought."

Before Cyrus could react, a spell hit him right in the face, and his skin started prickling and itching like he had a rash. Stumbling back from the bars, he raised his hands to feel his skin, resisting the urge to scratch. Red bumps had grown all over his face. Ron had _hexed_ him? He fumed. "When I get out of here your ass is going to purple for _months_, Weasley."

Ron grinned. "You're not getting out, _Harry_, so that's never going to happen. Now, if you answer one of my questions, I'll take the hex off."

Cyrus scowled and remained silent.

The redhead shrugged. "Alright, I'll just ask. Where have you been?"

Cyrus bit his lip and looked away. "I'm not saying."

Another hex hit him in the chest, and now he found himself with tits. He stared down at himself in shock at the sight of the slight bulge pressing against the tight basilisk skin. "Did you just turn me into a _girl_? Geez, Weasley. You of all people would actually look for a hex that gave you breasts. What have you been doing, feeling up your own tits and jacking off because no chick would be caught dead having sex with you?" His armour had deflected most of the power in the spell, so he didn't have jugs the size of implants, but they still hurt.

The next spell wasn't nearly as kind, but the skin protected him from too much damage. He could feel blood dripping down his leg, but it hadn't been severed or anything. He scowled at the redhead.

"Tell me what I want to know, Harry."

"Suck my dick." He was ready to dodge this time, though the pain in his leg slowed him down. The spell splashed harmlessly on to the wall behind him. "Is that the best you can do, Weasley? Lousy spellmanship, that." He dodged another curse as the redhead stood up, face purple with anger.

"Well, if you're going to play it that way," the redhead trailed off and spun around to send a curse flying at Snape. The vampire, who was currently nursing a sore back, couldn't dodge. Cyrus watched in concern as a deep cut sliced into his shoulder. Why the hell hadn't Snape gotten out of the way? He was a vampire! Dodging something like that should have been easier than breathing! Unless… he looked at the bars, wishing he could use his rune sight to see what kinds of spells Dumbledore had put on them. Unless the old coot had cast some vampire-specific wards.

Snape looked decidedly unimpressed. He sneered. "Your aim hasn't improved much, Mr. Weasley."

The redhead flushed. "I was aiming for your shoulder!"

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "Your eyes were on my chest, you incompetent. You're not fooling anybody."

Cyrus couldn't see Ron's expression, but he did see the wary twitch of Snape's mouth.

"Really, Professor? You won't be laughing for long." And then the redhead cast _crucio_.

Cyrus watched with wide eyes as Snape started twitching on the ground. When the _hell_ had Ron learned how to cast the cruciatus curse?! Wasn't he pro-Light?! He stayed away form the bars even though he wanted to move closer to help the vampire, but he knew putting himself closer to their new enemy wasn't going to help. Ron held the curse for a minute before removing it.

Snape actually _chuckled_ when the spell was over, "You need more practice, Weasley. We'll turn you into a Dark wizard yet." but Cyrus could see that he was shaking slightly where he lay on the floor.

"Seems to me like I'm doing pretty well, Professor," the redhead gloated. He turned around and Cyrus flinched at the look of sick pleasure on his face. "Come one, Harry. You can't tell me you've never wanted to do that." Cyrus said nothing. "Unless, of course, _he's_ down here because he came to help you." Ron wandered closer to the bars, a grin on his face. "How about we make a deal. You answer one of my questions, and I won't turn Snape into a dead man. Deal?"

Cyrus bit his lip. "Remove the hexes, and I'll talk."

Ron shook his head. "Nope. If you tell me where you were, I'll take off the boils."

Cyrus licked his lips and looked down at the floor in thought. Making his decision, he met Ron's eyes square on. "I… I was in New York," he said through grit teeth.

Because Ron was looking at Cyrus, he didn't see Snape's worried expression change to a smug smirk.

The Weasley watched him for a few moments. "You're lying."

Cyrus's mouth dropped open. "What?! I am _not_ lying! I answered your stupid question so take off this hex!"

Ron seemed to contemplate it for a moment before he cast the counter spell. Cyrus sighed in relief and rubbed at the smooth skin of his face. "Alright, what were you doing in New York?"

Cyrus scowled at him. "What do you think I was doing, picking daisies?" When Ron raised his wand threateningly at Snape, he blathered on, "Fine fine! Just stop it, alright?" He looked away and clenched his fists. "I was training, alright?!" He scowled and stared stubbornly at the wall.

"Training where?"

Cyrus turned to look at him with an incredulous expression. "At a school, obviously."

"What's the _name?_"

He scowled. "NYAAM."

"Nyam? What's that stand for?"

"The New York Academy of Advanced Magic."

The redhead was watching him suspiciously, but Cyrus didn't even twitch. "What kinds of classes did you take?"

"The same ones as here, just harder."

"Why didn't you just stay at Hogwarts, then?"

Cyrus scowled. "I'll tell you if you take off the tits."

Ron absently waved his wand and Cyrus sighed in relief as the pain in his chest eased. "Now tell my why you left Hogwarts."

Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest. "Didn't like the scenery."

Ron stared at him for a moment before glaring. "You're lying, aren't you? You think this is _funny?_ You _mocking me?_"

Cyrus kept a straight expression. "I think your intelligence leaves something to be desired, yes." He widened his eyes innocently. "What are you going to do, Ron? Give me a chick's plumbing too?"

The redhead was puce, and Cyrus had to admit the colour looked good on him. In an ugly sort of way. "Let's see if you find _this_ funny!" He cast crucio at Snape again, and Cyrus tried to keep the concern off of his face. Snape could handle it, right? He'd been tortured by Voldemort for longer than this, right? Cyrus hoped so.

The spell cut out after a minute and a half, and Cyrus could tell that Ron was winded. He felt a slow smirk spread across his face. "Wow, Weasley. You never did have much stamina, did you?" He smiled. "Must be why you don't get laid much, huh." Cyrus could almost see steam coming out of the redhead's ears.

"Do stop taunting the fool, Potter. I tire of the tingling sensation," the Potions Master drawled, and Cyrus grinned as he saw that the vampire was okay.

"But Snape, it's oh so fun!"

The vampire snorted and pushed himself into a sitting position. "While I admit it's amusing, I'd rather not bleed out today if it's all the same to you."

Ron exploded and rounded on Cyrus. He cast crucio, but Cyrus dodged easily. He wasn't falling for the same tricks. "You're nothing but a selfish idiot, Harry! While you were running and hiding, people were dying over here! Just like that stupid mutt godfather of yours." He grinned when Cyrus flinched, obviously hitting a nerve. "It was all your fault, you know. If you hadn't been so stupid, you wouldn't have dragged us to Department of Mysteries in the first place. _I_ wouldn't have been _attacked_ by those stupid brains! The others wouldn't have gotten hurt! And _Sirius_ wouldn't have-"

"SHUT UP!"

Ron smirked as Cyrus's chest heaved with his anger. When he got out of there he was going to flay Ron alive.

"No, I won't! Are you still sad about the mutt? Do you cry yourself to sleep at night?" Ron grinned. "Aaw, poor lil Harry sad his doggy left him?" The childish voice, reminiscent of Bellatrix Lestrange, made Cyrus sick to his stomach. "Sirius probably blamed you too, you know. I bet, when he fell through the veil, the last thing on his mind was how it was all your fault. It was _your_ fault that he got stuck in Azkaban. It was _your_ fault he had to hide in caves after he escaped. And, you know what? It was _your fault_ your parents died too, now that I think about it. It's all about you, Ha-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Cyrus screamed, feeling the cuffs on his hands heat and start to glow under the pressure of his magic. "YOU DON'T KNOW A FUCKING THING!"

Ron just smirked. "And now it's going to be _your_ fault that another person you care about dies." He turned his wand on Snape. Cyrus's eyes widened. "I found this neat little potions book one day, when I forgot my own copy in the dorms. Slughorn gave it to me. Along with getting me an O in that class, there's also been some interesting curses written in the margins. I've always wanted to try this one. _Sectumsempra_."

Cyrus's vision turned red when the Spell collided with Snape's chest and ripped him open in a spray of blood. With an angry scream, he reached for his power, for _anything_ that would _kill the sunofabitch in front of him!!_

His death magic exploded from where it was suppressed under his core, flooding his body with a bone-deep chill as it sucked the life out of the air around him. In an uncontrolled burst of power, it sank into the walls in search of something. Riding the wave of power, Cyrus was led to the body of the basilisk just beneath him. Of course, the Chamber of Secrets was under the school, so- His thought process froze as he felt his death magic surge into the dead body of the basilisk and all other dead creatures in the area. He 'watched' as the basilisk slithered into the pipes in search of its 'master'.

He came to himself on the floor of his cell, feeling drained but still impossibly angry. He could hear Ron's voice, but nothing that was said registered in his mind. No, his mind was focused on all the _creatures_ he could feel his death magic in, from the basilisk sliding through the pipes towards them to the dead rats, from the dead pets in unused classrooms to the carcasses of rodents in the owlrey. He grinned as he sensed the basilisk close by, finally tuning in to what Ron was saying.

"-ver did like how you were always leading us around, the hero. It wasn't like you knew much more than us, but _you_ got special treatment? Got to participate in the Tournament, had all this _money_ from your dead parents… All the cool stuff happened to _you_."

Cyrus couldn't see Ron's face, but he could imagine the stupid look on it. Pushing himself to his feet, he watched through his anger-tinted vision as Ron continued to blather on, unaware of exactly _how far_ he had pushed.

"-n't see what Dumbledore saw in you. Always struttin' around like you ow-" The redhead cut off as he heard a sound down the hallway. "What the hell is th-"

He never knew what hit him.

The basilisk came flying down the hall, mouth open and its remaining fangs glinting in the pale firelight of the torches. Before Ron could even scream, the rotting jaws had closed around him with a _crunch_. Cyrus watched with anger burning away every other emotion as the redhead's upper body disappeared from sight. With a flick of the basilisk's head, the legs too soon disappeared. The only evidence of Ron's existence was the shoe that had fallen onto the ground, and the Gryffindor-red sock that had caught on a sharp fang.

Cyrus could feel it. Could feel the dead basilisk as if it were an extension of himself. Sinking into that connection, he ordered the basilisk to break down their bars. The snake coiled itself in the hallway, curling and curling, leaving bits of dead flesh caught on the bars and the floor around them. As its skin had been harvested, he could hear sizzling as the basilisk venom soaking its flesh began to melt the metal even as the pressure of that coiled body started pushing them inwards and breaking them from the wall. Moving to stand against the back of the cell, he held his arms in front of him in case the bars came flying at him.

They did. A couple came loose from the floor and came careening towards the back of the cell, but Cyrus was ready. He rolled to the side in a controlled fall. The creaking of breaking stone and metal stopped, and Cyrus looked up to see that enough bars had broken for him to escape. Careful of the rotting flesh coated in basilisk venom, but mostly protected by the armour he wore, Cyrus ordered the basilisk out of the way as he picked his way out of the cell. The wards and the metal hadn't stood a chance. Rushing into Snape's cell, he reached out a hand to feel for a pulse. A hand came up and grabbed his wrist, startling him into letting out a squeak.

"Snape? Are you alright?!"

The vampire let out a groan, the front of his robes literally _soaked_ in blood. "I need to feed."

Making a split-second decision, Cyrus pulled his wrist out of Snape's weak grip and rolled up the basilisk skin. "Here. Drink."

Dark eyes watched him carefully. "Are you sure, Cy-"

"Just drink, damnit! Before you die!" He held the chained wrist to Snape's mouth and winced at the pain of fangs sinking into it. Either the vampire was too weak to use aphrodisiac, or Snape usually fed this way. He wasn't sure which worried him more. "Just be careful not to suck me dry, okay?" He smiled when Snape looked at him like he was stupid. "You'll be back to being your usual cranky self in no time." The vampire actually snorted.

Just when Cyrus was beginning to feel dizzy, Snape released his wrist and healed it. Cyrus didn't know whether it was vampiric magic that did the healing, or just normal magic, but he was grateful that Snape was still capable of doing it in his state, because Cyrus couldn't heal a paper cut in his condition.

"I can imagine you're quite the commodity at Shikaan," the vampire said before licking away the blood that coated his lips. Cyrus blinked in confusion. Snape frowned as he took in a breath. "You're bleeding." When Cyrus looked down at his wrist in confusion, the vampire rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot. Somewhere else. The Weasley cut you, didn't he?"

Cyrus blinked and looked down at his left leg. Pulling up the tight basilisk skin, he winced as the blood started flowing freely. The tightness of the skin had stopped most of the bleeding, but when he'd pulled it back it had ripped the scabbing. Snape put his hand on the wound and it sealed as if it had never existed. Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Seeing the look, Snape smirked. "When you work for a mentally unstable Dark Lord, you perfect wandless healing spells."

Cyrus raised both eyebrows. "How come you never healed that wound in first year, then?" When Snape stared at him uncomprehendingly, he grinned. "You know, when Fluffy bit you?"

The vampire rolled his eyes. "Cerebrus have an agent in their blood that prevents magical healing and impedes vampiric healing." The vampire pushed himself to his feet. "Now, let's be gone from this horrid-"

"What about my stuff?" The vampire stared at him, uncomprehending. "I mean, Dumbledore snapped my wand, but he still has all my notes on his wards as well as my rune references. I don't know if he's already looked through my stuff, but I need it all back!"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well. Do you know where it is?" Cyrus just bit his lip. "Well, today's your lucky day. Dumbledore and I had a very nice chat while you were unconscious. You're fortunate the old coot likes to gloat. Let's go." The vampire walked out of his cell and froze at the sight of the dead basilisk, waiting for orders. "Obsidian." He turned to the human, his eyes demanding an explanation.

Cyrus shrugged. "I got mad."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Am I to assume by the red sock adorning one of its fangs and this empty shoe that Mr. Weasley is otherwise occupied at the moment?"

Cyrus grinned. "You could say that."

Snape just nodded and started walking down the hallway. "Tell your snake friend to go create a distraction. Dumbledore probably felt the wards fall, so he should be back to Hogwarts any minute now if he's not already here."

Cyrus nodded and told the basilisk to go create havoc on the main floor, and to kill Dumbledore if it, er, 'saw' him. The basilisk seemed to understand, and even though it had no eyes it slithered in the opposite direction and towards the Great Hall. He sent a quick order not to harm any of the students or other teachers before running off after Snape. How did the vampire manage to billow so fast?

Jogging to keep up, they led each other through the castle and up to the seventh floor. With their combined knowledge of secret passageways, and with the basilisk drawing attention away, they were able to make it to the seventh floor by carefully dodging frantic students and teachers left and right.

When they reached the gargoyle, Cyrus got them passed it with the candy he remembered from earlier. Unable to use his rune-sight, Cyrus watched as Snape stripped off the wards one by one. His eyebrows rose. "How do you know how to get past these?"

The vampire gave him 'the look'. "I am a vampire well-versed in dark arts and the madness of Dumbledore. It's not difficult to remove the wards when you've seen him cast them multiple times." Cyrus just made a thoughtful noise. "It would be faster if I were a ward or runes master, but as I never took those courses at Shikaan, I have to use the dark arts curses that dissolve wards." With a soft 'click', the door unlocked. The vampire smirked and opened it.

"So, where are my things?"

"They should be behind the desk in one of the cupboards under the hat."

Cyrus ran around the desk and pulled the doors open. He saw his pouch and pulled it out, attaching it to his waist after checking to see that everything was inside. From what he could tell, nothing had been shifted around, so it was unlikely that it had been opened. He let out a sigh. "What about my feather and invisibility cloak? Do you know where those are?"

Snape frowned. "On his person."

Cyrus slammed his fist into the desk, upsetting bottles of ink and quills. "Fuck! The whole reason I came to Hogwarts in the first place was for that fucking feather! I'm not leaving without it!"

The vampire gave him an annoyed look. "Haven't you caused enough problems today? If we take the floo, we can leave Hogwarts in moments."

Cyrus shook his head. "I'm not leaving without my feather. I _need _it."

"Perhaps I can help you with that," a voice said from behind him. Cyrus blinked and turned around. The sorting hat bobbed its tip at him in greeting. "Hello, Harry Potter. Are you enjoying the new school you're going to?" Cyrus stared. "Of course you are. I see you've learned a lot, with how you got past those wards yesterday evening. I told you that you belonged in Slytherin."

Cyrus scowled. "Yes, I know you said that. I was Dumbledore's man, even back then, however. Now, you said something about being able to help me?"

The hat chuckled. "Yes, yes. The Headmaster, before leaving to deal with the Death Eater attacks, put your feather and invisibility cloak in that trunk over there for safe keeping. He was quite concerned that Voldemort not get his hands on them, should the Headmaster be defeated in battle."

Cyrus turned around and saw a small trunk in the corner of the office, hidden behind some trinkets. It hadn't been there yesterday. Making his way over to the trunk, he pushed the trinkets off the side without caring that he broke some. It was locked, but nothing happened when he touched it. "How come it's not warded?"

The hat seemed to shrug. "Perhaps he's keyed you into the wards, Mr. Potter, in case you were to need them in the event of his death."

Cyrus frowned. "Why do you seem so set on Dumbledore dying?"

The hat frowned. "Why, because his right hand is cursed, Mr. Potter. He will be lucky to last the year."

Cyrus's eyes widened, and he almost dropped the trunk in surprise. "W-what? He's _dying?_ How?"

The hat seemed grave. "I'm not entirely sure, but it may have something to do with that box in his desk. He checks on it almost every day. I'm not sure what you did in that drawer earlier, but the box seems very important to the Headmaster."

Cyrus's eyes widened. "You didn't see? Did the portraits see?" The hat shook its tip and he let out a sigh of relief.

"As much as I enjoy our current situation, if you have your things Potter we really must go."

Cyrus nodded and joined Snape at the fireplace. "Where to?"

"Spinner's End. We won't be there for long, so don't get comfortable."

Cyrus nodded and sunk his hand into the bowl of floo powder that Snape held out to him. Before tossing it into the fire, he turned around and smiled at the hat. "Thanks for all your help, friend!"

The hat nodded, and Cyrus tossed the powder into the fire. "Visit sometime, Mr. Potter. Hogwarts has missed you."

The human grinned. "Probably won't but thanks for the offer." He jumped into the green flame. "Spinner's End!"

_oOo_

Cyrus came out the other end with as much grace as ever, nearly toppling over an armchair as he went. The trunk in his hand fell to the ground with a thud. Wiping soot from his face, he moved out of the way just as Snape came through himself.

"How do you do that?" The vampire stared at him uncomprehendingly. "You know, come through the fire without it giving you the boot?"

Snape smirked, amused. "You have to figure it out yourself."

The human scowled at him and sank into a nearby chair, ignoring the look Snape gave him as soot fell off his armour. "So, how long are we staying here?"

"Not long. We need to get those cuffs off your wrists. Do you know anybody specializing in enchantments, wards, or cursed objects?"

Cyrus frowned in thought. "Well, I mean, Rivehn's the Runes teacher at Shikaan. Surely he could do something about it?"

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "Possibly. In the meantime, I will have to transport you until you can apparate again." He motioned for Cyrus to get out of the chair and the human did with a groan, grabbing his mini-trunk as he stood. He watched as Snape walked towards the mantlepiece and waved his hand over it. A small box appeared where there had been nothing but empty space. He pulled off the lid and removed a wand.

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "How many wands do you _have?_"

Snape smirked. "Always keep a spare, Obsidian. You never know when a barmy old owl might snatch it from you." He waved his wand over Cyrus and the human felt his skin and scalp tingle. "There. I have changed your appearance back to Cyrus Obsidian's."

The human grinned as Snape walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. They disapparated.

_oOo_

They appeared outside in Shikaan's main courtyard. Cyrus led Snape through the large double doors and headed for Rivehn's classroom. It was late, but Cyrus hoped he could find the teacher in the adjoining office. He passed a few students on the way there, some staring curiously while others ignored them entirely.

Slipping into the classroom, he made his way to the door at the back. When he heard raised voices, he frowned. Shrugging, he knocked softly on the door, hoping he wouldn't piss anybody off by interrupting.

The door flew open. "WHAT?!" Cyrus stared up in shock at a furious Yankovich.

"Don't yell at my visitors, you overgrown bat! Now move aside and let them in. I've heard enough of your bitching for one night."

Yankovich smiled a smile that Cyrus never wanted to see on his face _ever again_. "Of cooourse. Come in, Mr. Obsidian, we were just discussing you." The demon stepped aside, and Cyrus got a good look at Rivehn's surprised face.

The vampire inside smiled in greeting. "Good evening, Mr. Obsidian. What can I do for you?" When Yankovich opened his mouth, the vampire threw a curse at him without moving a muscle. The demon dodged. "Not a word out of you, Yankovich. You can ream into him _after_ he's done here."

Cyrus nervously shifted his grip on the trunk he held in his cuffed arms. "I was wondering if you could get me out of these?"

The vampire stood up as he caught sight of the silver around Cyrus's wrists. He pulled the box out of his arms and placed it on the floor before taking Cyrus's wrists in his hands and examining the markings scratched into the metal that Cyrus was now noticing for the first time, as he hadn't had decent lighting on the dungeon floor. "Where did you get these?" the vampire asked, not looking up from the cuffs as he waved his hand over them with a curious expression on his face.

"I was… um… detained. By an old… associate. He said he found them in Egypt, if that helps any."

Rivehn shook his head. "Hmm. He may have found them in Egypt, but these aren't Egyptian design. No, they look Babylonian. Nasty associate you've got." For the first time, violet eyes met his own. Cyrus felt his face warm. "They're very old and powerful. Been kept in pretty good condition, too."

Cyrus swallowed. The violet eyes still hadn't left his own green. He licked his lips, and they jotted downwards to follow the motion. 'Shit. Bad Cyrus, baaad Cyrus. Why's he looking at my mouth for, anyway? He's probably thousands of years old!' Kicking his brain into gear, he finally answered, "R-right. Umm, is there anything you can do?"

Rivehn smirked. "Just whom do you think you're speaking to?" Cyrus watched curiously as the vampire appeared to focus. He let out a soft gasp when the violet eyes began to glow, the pupil disappearing. Rivehn had _rune sight?_

"Stop showing off, Rivehn. I wish you'd be with me like you are in your classroom. Nice and soft-spoken. Instead I'm stuck with this-" He cut off, his voice strangled. Cyrus's eyes widened when he saw that the vampire had literally taken the demon by the balls.

"Another word out of you, bat, and I will crush these. Then you'll never get laid again." The vampire's lips twitched upwards in amusement. "I do so love human vernacular."

The demon choked. "Alright, alright. Shutting up." He sighed in relief when Rivehn let go and returned his attention to the cuffs. Taking a few steps away, Yankovich crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a wall with a furious expression on his face.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the cuffs opened with a click. Cyrus grinned as he felt his magic return to him. Rivehn pulled off the cuffs and slipped them into a pocket, but the human didn't care if the vampire wanted to keep them. He was free! Feeling his cheeks getting sore from grinning so much, he let his face relax into a smile. Glancing behind him, he saw Snape watching him with a small upward twitch of his lips.

"Perhaps now that you are free from your confines, you could open the box, Obsidian? I'd like to ensure the fruits of our labour are inside. I don't trust the hat."

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "And what reason would it have to lie?" he asked, kneeling on the floor in the middle of the office and running his hands over the trunk's surface. Closing his eyes and activating his rune sight, as he didn't want his teachers to see that he had it, he examined the runes orbiting around the box. He frowned. It was a very complicated ward, almost packed so tightly he couldn't read it.

Fingers grasped his chin and turned his head upwards. He caught a brief glimpse of the bright light of runes in Rivehn's office and the spells orbiting around an empty space in front of him. A tremor went through the hand holding his face. Turning off his rune sight, he opened his eyes and stared into violet eyes in surprise. Now that he had a closer look, he could see multiple shades of purple glinting like a faceted gem in the light. A tingle raced up his spine. "You have been keeping secrets, Mr. Obsidian."

Cyrus blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Rivehn looked amused. "You possess the same gift as I, mortal. Rune sight, I believe the English name is."

"H-how could you tell?"

Rivehn raised an elegant eyebrow. "I am thousands of years older than you. It is not difficult to see the changes it makes in your aura."

"Huh." The human couldn't stop staring into the expressive eyes. He blinked and came back into focus as the vampire stood and stepped away.

"It's a rather convoluted ward, Mr. Obsidian. It seems to require a pass code."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You got all that in a few seconds?"

The vampire leaned against the edge of his desk with an amused expression. "Yes."

Cyrus frowned. What the hell would Dumbledore use as a- "Oh no, you didn't," he muttered under his breath. "If you used that, I'm going to burn your socks the next chance I get." Licking his lips, he looked up at Rivehn nervously. "If I can't figure out the password, could you open it for me?"

The vampire nodded. "It would cost you, but yes, I could do so."

Nodding, Cyrus cleared his throat. Feeling like an idiot, he said the first thing that came to mind when he thought of Dumbledore. "For the greater good."

It clicked open. Cyrus gaped. "I can't believe the audacity of that-" he growled under his breath. At least now he didn't have to worry about paying Rivehn anything. He opened the lid and pulled out the bundle of cloth inside. He frowned at the sight of a book underneath. What was it doing there? Mentally shrugging, deciding to check it out later, he turned his attention to the cloth in front of him. It wasn't his invisibility cloak. Frowning, he cut the thread holding the bundle together and unraveled it. He smiled when he caught sight of familiar silky fabric. Shaking it out, a single, 12-inch feather floated to the ground. Cyrus caught it before it could touch the marble floor, grinning when familiar warmth brushed through him and made all the objects in the room vibrate with magic. He caught sight of surprised looks from both his teachers before his eyes fell closed in content. He felt his stretched connection to the basilisk and all the other dead creatures at Hogwarts dwindle and then disappear, the cold leaving his limbs and curling back into a ball under his core. He smiled.

Yankovich was watching him carefully. "Interesting," he drawled, eyes sliding over the contents of the trunk. "I see you've found the feather, Mr. Obsidian." Cyrus peaked his eyes open to look at the demon, who was now looking far less furious than he had before. "Don't think that this means I won't be railing your ass for the next three months as you catch up in my class. What were you _thinking_ letting your death magic run loose in Scotland?! I had half a mind to find you and drag your ass back here myself!"

Rivehn was watching them with an amused look on his face. "I believe he would have, if you hadn't show up in the next few hours. We were both wondering where you were during our classes."

Cyrus, who really couldn't bring himself to be angry or upset, smiled blithely and shrugged. "Sorry for getting trapped in a dungeon and tortured. Next time I'll get them to send a note." He grinned when their faces blanked. Turning to Snape, he smiled. "Thanks for your help. I'd still be rotting down there if… well, you know."

Snape put a hand on his shoulder. "Despite what these two may say, I don't believe it could have transpired any other way." Cyrus smiled. "But if you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again, as your guardian I will lock you in my _own_ dungeon and force-feed you experimental potions, understood?"

The human grinned. "Yes, 'Professor'." Snape gave him a look. "I'll come visit you guys during Christmas, okay?"

The vampire nodded. "See that you do. Good day, professors." He bowed to both and blinked when Rivehn stepped forward.

"You are Mr. Obsidian's guardian?"

Snape nodded. "One of them." His eyes were trained solely on the other vampire. They stared at one another for half a minute before the older vampire smiled and tilted his head in greeting. "It's been a pleasure meeting you again, Severus Snape."

Cyrus watched curiously as Snape bowed again. "Likewise, Lord Rivehn." He disapparated with a _crack_.

Cyrus turned away from the empty space and looked at his two teachers. "You know Snape?" he asked curiously.

Rivehn's lips quirked. "I know every vampire who passes through these walls, Mr. Obsidian."

"I see…" His stomach chose that moment to growl, and Cyrus winced when he remembered what he had done with that ring 24 hours prior. It was probably too late to throw it up… He scratched the back of his head nervously. "Er, sorry about missing class, Professors, but I'd really like to go eat and crash. I'm totally knackered. May I go?" Rivehn and Yankovich traded 'looks'.

The demon's tail twitched. "I expect to see you in Necromancy on Wednesday, Obsidian."

The human nodded. "Thanks for your help, Professor." Rivehn inclined his head watched as he left the office. He couldn't wait to get a decent night's sleep. Food first, though.

Being tortured really took it out of a guy.

_-Toki Mirage-_

Thank you all for reading! I hope you liked this chapter as much as I did. Phew, it was epic. O.o' I'm sure you're all happy that you didn't have to wait too long after chapter eight for this sequel. Eheh. I knew it would be a cliffie, but I also knew that this chapter would be too long to put the two together. (shrugs) The muse thought it was okay. But maybe that was because she already knew what was going to happen… oh well. Sorry for those of you who thought chp 8 was filler, but I believe that Cyrus would try all other possible routes before returning to Hogwarts.

The red sock is dedicated to Xander, a good friend of mine. He helped me and Roos come up with a solution for killing Ron! The sock was aaall him. Bow down to his greatness! He also drew me a basilisk in like one day and (whistles) it was awesome I tell you! If he lets me, I think I may use it as my display pic. :)

I'd also like to give credit where it is due to my muse, the awesome and brilliant: Roos! She and I chatted on skype, me in a bloody library, for two hours pounding out the plot for this chapter and filling the holes. We hope this version is as plot hole-less as it can be. Pot holes, plot holes… heheh.

Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter Ten: Shelby's Blood Bath

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Ten:

_oOo_

"Where the hell have you been?!"

Cyrus woke to being bodily dragged out of his bed and slammed against the wall. Blinking blearily, he saw Tara's angry red eyes inches from his face. He frowned. "You have bad morning breath." When he saw the furious expression on her face, he quickly corrected, "Er, I mean, you look lovely this morning." He cast a wandless tempus, trying to ignore the claws digging into his arms and the fact that his feet couldn't actually touch the floor. The glowing numbers read 4:09:35. He groaned. It was way too fucking early in the morning to be conscious. "Why can't you bother me at a decent hour?" he asked crossly. He'd been through shit yesterday and all he'd wanted was a good night of sleep, but nooo.

"You missed our scheduled feeding, human," Tara growled, enunciating her point by slamming him against the wall. Again.

Cyrus glared. "Only by a day. Yeesh."

"That doesn't matter, ingrate! We have a deal, and you broke the deal without prior notice! That means that you owe me a favour." Fear trickled down his spine at the sight of the smirk on her face.

"What are you talking about? You knew I was going to be out looking for my feather!"

She blinked innocently. "Well, I never knew it was going to take _that_ long. So it's your own fault, really. Next time you need to communicate properly, otherwise shit like this happens, and then you _owe_ me."

Cyrus threw her off him with a bit of wandless magic, rubbing at the marks on his arms. "Give me a minute to wake up," he grumbled, stretching as he made his way to the bathroom. All the food he'd stuffed himself with last night seemed to have run its course.

When he came out a few moments later, a cleaned ring in his hand, Tara raised an eyebrow at him. "What were you doing in the bathroom with that ring?"

Cyrus honestly didn't know what to say.

"Er, I forgot it by the sink when I took it off last night."

She shrugged. "Whatever. I need you to come to a meeting tomorrow night." She held out a slip of paper. "Here's the address."

Cyrus took the sheet and stared blankly at the writing. "'Shelby's Blood Bath?' Where the hell is that?"

"You know the red district in sector four of the- Oh never mind. I take it you've never explored past the walls of Shikaan?"

He frowned. "No, why?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're in another dimension, kid. You honestly didn't think it was only the school, did you?" Cyrus just stared. "Whatever. I'll come pick you up Wednesday night. Be ready before nine. And you might wanna wear that fancy armour of yours."

"Why would I need it?"

Tara grinned, flashing fang. "It's the monthly student vampire meeting. We discuss vampire politics, share information, hide information, and show off our powers and belongings." She eyed his scruffy, boxer-clad visage. "You would fall into the last category."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a wind-up toy that performs for your amusement."

She shrugged. "You have a pretty sweet set up, Cyrus. Most blood bags, the proper term is 'donor', are treated not far from slaves. You're lucky in that you have something I place in high value, so I don't demean you or make you follow my bidding in order for you to have my protection." When Cyrus just stared at her blankly, she got an annoyed look on her face. "Look. It's this simple. You pretend to be a docile little human servant for me, and _I_ don't kick your ass three ways to Sunday, capiche? I won't have you ruining my reputation because you're too full of yourself to suck up your pride."

When she seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, Cyrus nodded. "Alright. Will I have to do this often?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. You're a new acquisition, so it's best that I show you off now before some other vamp comes along and gets stupid ideas in their empty skulls." She grinned. "No student is taking what's mine. You're on your own when it comes to the older vamps, though." She shrugged. "I'm not fighting Bindi for you."

Cyrus frowned. "Who's Bindi?"

"She's the Study of Ancient Magic teacher. She's been around longer than Rivehn, actually."

"Really? But I thought Rivehn was the oldest and most powerful vampire."

Tara stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. It cut off with a snort. "Who told you that, kid? Rivehn may be the most powerful vampire at this school, but he's not the oldest or the most powerful in the dimensions. He's just really close. He's not ambitious enough to want a higher position – he hasn't killed off another vampire in the past three hundred years – so he's well liked amongst the Elders."

Cyrus had no response to that.

"So, you'll be in your rooms Wednesday night? I'm picking you up at quarter to nine, so don't be late." She melted into one of the shadows under his bed and disappeared. Cyrus scowled. So _that_ was how she'd been sneaking into his rooms. He vowed to install lights under his bed.

_oOo_

"Oh, it's you again."

Cyrus grinned as the door closed behind him. "Yeah. It's lunchtime at school, so I had a spare moment. I got my feather back."

The fey rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you humans. So stubborn. Like I said before, just because it used to be in your wand doesn't-"

He twirled the feather in his fingers and multiple golden sparks jumped off it. "I'm _sure_ that this feather will work. Now, what wood will we need?"

She gave him a bland look. "You…" She snatched the feather out of his hand and walked to her back room. "If you weren't a customer, I'd slap that cocky…" she trailed off into grumbling. They entered the room filled with bottles and wood. "You know the drill."

Cyrus grinned and closed his eyes. Thinking of his feather, of the feeling he felt when he held it, he waited for a piece of wood to resonate. It took a few minutes, but eventually he felt a tingle a little ways away. Opening his eyes just enough to see, he followed the sensation until he came to a door near one of the corners of the room.

The fey came over to him. "It's in the surplus storage? Huh." She waved her hand over the door and it opened with a click. When she motioned him in, Cyrus walked through the doorframe, curiously glancing around him. Following the 'feeling', he made his way over to the far end of the small closet. Digging through a pile of sticks in a small box, he pulled out a long, pale-white stick. He held it out to the fey.

She took it with a grin. "White oak, huh? Not so holly anymore. Follow me."

When they were back in the main room, she placed the feather and the stick on her counter and held both hands over them. After some glowing and fireworks, the stick shaved itself into the shape of a wand. Finally, she took the phoenix feather and inserted it into the shaft. With a flash of light, the tip sealed shut and the wand was complete. She didn't touch it.

"Try it."

With a grin, Cyrus picked it off the counter and gripped it firmly in his hand. A shower of golden sparks in the shape of a phoenix flew out of the end and danced around the room before melting into the air. He grinned. "So, what's the damage?"

"40 galleons. 10 for the stick, 30 for labour."

With a shrug, he dished over the metal. Again. "Hopefully this'll be is the last time I see you."

She grinned. "Likewise. What happened to the other wand, anyway? The one with the hair?"

"It… well, someone broke it." He grimaced.

Her eyes narrowed. "The bastard. Did they get their just desserts?"

Cyrus grinned. "In a manner of speaking."

_oOo_

After his last class of the day, Cyrus was in the library when Xanthir found him.

"I see you made it out in once piece," the werewolf said from behind Cyrus as he sniffed at his neck. The human jumped. He really needed to figure out a way to sense the people around him or he was going to get killed. Cyrus gave Xanthir a weird look as he finished sniffing, but the werewolf just grinned and plunked himself down in the chair across from Cyrus. "I thought, when you didn't show up to supper last night, that that Snipe guy didn't get my message."

The human snorted. "Don't let _him_ hear you call him that. His name's Snape."

Xanthir waved it away. "Whatever. So, what happened exactly? You were gone for days. And you reek of death and blood, even more so than normal."

Cyrus frowned, confused. "What do you mean? I had a shower, and I washed my armour last night."

"I have a nose twenty times as sensitive as yours. Of course I can still smell it! What the hell happened?" Xanthir looked concerned.

Cyrus pulled out his new wand and waved it through the air. Gold sparks jumped off the tip. "I got my feather back, of course."

The werewolf glared at him. "You didn't answer my question. What happened?" When Cyrus rolled his eyes, he growled. "And don't tell me 'nuthin', cuz that's a pile of shit. Tell me the truth!"

Cyrus scowled. "A lot of shit, okay? And I really don't want to talk about it. So lay the fuck off."

Xanthir looked hurt. "I was just worried about you. Jeez. See if I ever help you again."

Cyrus sighed and rolled his eyes. He cast a silencing ward around them. "Fine. I got captured, my magic got sealed, and I used death magic to escape. Happy?"

Orange eyebrows rose in surprise. "Your magic got sealed? Wow. You must've pissed off somebody with a looot of money or a lot of influence." Cyrus snorted. "Though it makes sense that you could get free with your death magic. They're totally different, after all. Like faerie magic and human magic; the laws of one don't apply to the other."

Cyrus frowned. "I hadn't really thought about it. I was just really angry."

The werewolf grinned. "Remind me never to piss you off." They both chuckled. "But still, you okay? No lastin' damage?"

Cyrus smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. And thanks for sending Snape that note."

He nodded. "No problem. Hey, I was wonderin' if you could help me with the homework for last Runes class. I know you weren't there, so I'll give you a copy, but you probably know better how to answer them than-"

"Excuse me?"

The werewolf cut himself off in surprise, and Cyrus turned to the left to see a grey demon standing there, his wings and tail twitching every now and then. The human blinked. "Yeah?"

The demon bit his lip nervously for a moment before seeming to gather his courage. "You helped me during class a week ago, and I wanted to talk to you about it but I haven't been able to find you," he said softly.

Cyrus gave him a weird look. He recognized the demon from his Weapons and Battle class, but what did it matter that he'd helped the guy? "What's it matter?"

The demon stared. "You helped me, so I owe you a debt."

"You don't owe me anything. I didn't fix your leg or help you cross the beam because I _wanted_ something from you. I did it because…" He frowned in thought. "I dunno, because I'm human?" He shrugged. "Anyway, to reiterate, don't worry about it."

The demon shook his head. "It is custom among my people that debts are paid in full. Always. Is there truly nothing… that you want?" He glanced at Xanthir.

The werewolf grinned. "Don't let it bother ya. Cyrus is a weird human." He held out a hand. "I'm Xanthir. What's your name?"

The demon stared at the hand for a moment before slowly taking it. "Yalmireth." They shook.

"Nice meetin' ya, Yalmireth. Why don't you pay off your debt by being this antisocial ape's friend? He doesn't get out much." Cyrus cast a hex at the werewolf that had his hair turning neon pink, but said werewolf just grinned. Yalmireth watched with a bizarre look on his face. "See what I mean? Can't make friends, the poor thing." This time Cyrus conjured a small rock to fall on his head. It hit with a thump, and Xanthir gave Cyrus a wounded look as he slid out of his chair and hid behind the table. "But you might wanna be careful. This job is dangerous to your health."

Cyrus rolled his eyes and pulled out his Runes homework. "Get your arse back up here Xanthir and give me the homework that's due next class."

Xanthir pulled himself back into his chair, grin still plastered on his face. He turned to Yalmireth. "You're welcome to stay or leave. We're goin' to be talkin' runes, though. Hope ya don't mind."

The demon shook his head and sat at the end of the table.

"Perfect!" Xanthir grinned and slammed his runes binder on the table. "Now, you trouble magnet. Help me with this equation."

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I think you only keep me around to help you with your homework."

Xanthir pretended to be offended. "I do not! I just believe it's common sense to take advantage of an asset, is all."

The human grinned. "Sure. Whatever." He looked at Yalmireth, who was watching the exchange curiously. "He's always full of shit. Don't believe a thing he says."

"I am not!"

Yalmireth's lip twitched slightly in amusement.

_oOo_

Wednesday rolled around without any horrible incidents, so Cyrus considered Tuesday a successful and safe day. And now he had a demon for a friend, even though said demon seemed to be antisocial and a little… weird. The demon had sat with them a lunch, even though he didn't say much, so Cyrus had been pondering his eccentricities as he made his way to Necromancy. As he walked through the door, he shook thoughts of Yalmireth from his head. He had other things to think about now, like how he was finally going to be able to raise something from the dead! Intentionally, that is. The basilisk didn't really count.

He sat down in one of the chairs at the back, not wanting one of the other students at his back. He wasn't particularly liked in this class.

The door to Yankovich's office closed with a slam as the demon strode into the classroom. Cyrus couldn't tell if the demon was angry or just being his normal abrasive self.

"Good afternoon, class. I'm glad that we're all _here_." Cyrus felt heat creep into his face as some of his classmates turned around to look at him. "We're going to the graveyard again, but first I'm going to ask for any late assignments to be put on my desk. _Some_ students seem to think that they'll be able to pass this class without doing the paperwork. If you are one of these students, I would like to advise you that while the practical holds more weight in this class, if you don't hand in 70 percent of the assignments you automatically fail this course. Now, get up here and grab onto the rope."

They portkeyed to the graveyard.

It wasn't the same graveyard that they'd been using before. This one was a little more derelict.

"Does anyone recognize this graveyard? No? Good. Start listing important things about this location, and problems as a necromancer you may encounter while raising the dead here."

Some of the students started talking among themselves curiously. The first brave soul said, "Um, the headstones aren't clearly marked? You may have trouble finding a specific person you're trying to raise?"

Yankovich nodded. "Yes, that's true. But I'm looking for a specific answer to my question. Does anybody else have any ideas?"

"The graveyard hasn't been well-taken care of. There may be mix ups?" Zirala, the vampire at the head of the class, hazarded a guess.

Yankovich nodded again. "Yes, that is also true. But still not the answer I'm looking for." His eyes met Cyrus's over the heads of the other students. He raised an eyebrow at the human who was standing at the back of the group.

Cyrus frowned. What could be wrong with this location that hadn't already been suggested? Closing his eyes, he cautiously pulled a sliver of death magic out of the well suppressed under his core. Stretching it out like a net, he sank it into the ground below them. His frown deepened. All he could sense was the dead, evenly spaced apart in their graves. There had to be _something_ though, so he pulled on more death magic and sent the net deeper into the earth. Finally, he found it, and a gasped "Holy shit" escaped him before he could censor his mouth.

"Mr. Obsidian?"

Cyrus opened his eyes to see the entire class looking at him curiously. He flushed. "P-professor. Is that a mass gravesite? There are so many dead I can't keep count."

Yankovich grinned. "Very good! There was a landslide here a couple hundred years ago, and it covered up the remains of a battlefield under a good 100 feet of soil. Since then, a graveyard was placed on top. Mr. Obsidian, can you tell me the difficulties that you as a necromancer might face one day if you don't _properly examine the gravesite?_"

Cyrus winced. He'd read about this when writing one of his essays nearly a month ago. "You could accidentally raise too many dead, or if you magic ensnared one of the dead from deep underground, the power required to raise one of those dead could be sucked out of you and you could die."

The demon nodded. "Very good. If you're not careful when picking your gravesite, you may run into complications that could result in _your_ death or countless others. So you _always_ check for unpleasant surprises _before_ you even try to raise a zombie. Now, in today's class we're going to practice trying to raise one of the zombies _in_ that mass gravesite without raising them all. This is a lesson in control."

The blood rushed from Cyrus's face. He had to raise one of _those_ zombies? He'd never successfully raised even a _normal_ one before, though! Swearing under his breath, he watched as Zirala was once again the first to give it ago. He felt his hopes crumble when even the _vampire_ failed the first time. Yankovich had to sever the connection to keep the dead from sucking the death magic out of him.

He was screwed.

"Mr. Obsidian, why don't you give it a try?"

The human blinked and stared at Yankovich in horror. What a jerk! Biting his lip, he made his way to the front of the class, doing his best not to look the other students in the eye. He didn't want to know what was running through their minds. Jerkily, he came to a stop in front of Yankovich, ignoring the way Zirala snorted and muttered something derogatory under his breath. The teacher pretended not to notice and raised an eyebrow at Cyrus.

"Well? Give it a go. I want you to just raise _one_ of them. The difficulty with this exercise is you have to move your death magic past the surface dead, _and_ only raise _one_ of the zombies once you get it a hundred feet into the ground."

Cyrus bit his lip and nodded. Closing his eyes, he pulled a strand of death magic out from under his core and sent it down into the earth, stubbornly not letting it enter the surface dead. It made it half of the distance before it thinned to the point of no longer being useful. Frowning, he pulled out a few more strands and sent them down too. They thinned before making it all the way. He bit his lip. Damnit! How was he supposed to get his death magic all the way down there?

He heard a snort behind him, and it snapped his concentration. "Of course the human can't do it, Professor. He hasn't raised a single dead since we started this class."

Cyrus tried to ignore the annoyingly pompous voice of Zirala, but it was hard. Biting his lip, he tried to remember the time he'd raised the basilisk. What had he done differently? 'It felt like a wave, but then it raised almost every dead creature in the castle… how do I get it to raise only _one?_' Trying to remember the feeling, he pulled his death magic back out of the ground. Maybe he was approaching it wrong? He used threads to sense the existence of the dead, but maybe he needed more to actually raise one? Mentally shrugging, he pulled up a huge ball of necromancy and hurtled it into the ground.

He joined it, this time. It felt like he was _in_ the magic as it sank happily into the ground in search of the dead below. This time, he managed to reach the dead, but he kept the death magic tightly wound into the ball as he searched for a dead body that was mostly intact. He found one on the far side of the grave and sent his magic into it, reining it in when it tried to jump into other bodies nearby. He forced every last drop of it into that single body, and then commanded it rise. When it seemed to be managing on its own, he opened his eyes.

"See? He's useless. I don't see why he's been allowed to stay in this class when he can't even use his de-" When Cyrus turned to Zirala and smiled, the vampire cut himself off mid-speech. Brown eyes widened as the vampire took a step back. "Y-your eyes are black."

Cyrus blinked, about to conjure a mirror and check himself when he felt his undead finally reach the surface and begin to claw its way out. Following his connection with it, he walked past Zirala to find it. The class followed as he made his way to the edge of the graveyard to where a human stood in the darkness. He frowned. But he could sense that this was his undead. He turned to Yankovich, confused. "Shouldn't it only be skeleton, Professor?"

The demon didn't say anything, walking to the dead body and running his hand across its face. The undead, a man, didn't seem to notice the demon inspecting it, for its attention was solely fixed on Cyrus.

"How much death magic did you use, Obsidian?"

The human shrugged. "Well, I tried using threads, but they wouldn't reach, so I used a ball."

The demon stared at him. "In future, Obsidian, don't use so large a ball as _this_. The zombie is fit to bursting with death magic. I don't know how you managed to fit it all in this tiny shell."

Small murmurings of 'cool' passed through the class as a few took cautious steps forward to get a closer look. Aside from the zombie's clothes, it looked as if it could have walked off the street. Zirala was the only one who didn't look impressed as he sauntered forward and grabbed the undead's chin and yanked the face from side to side. "It's not all that impressive," he commented indifferently.

Cyrus scowled. The vampire was so full of shit. Never in all of their classes together had _Cyrus_ ever seen Zirala pull a zombie out of the ground that wasn't rotting. He wished the vampire would just pull his head out of his arse. The undead's eyes, which had been trained worshipfully on Cyrus, snapped to the vampire next to it and grabbed his throat before he could move away. Zirala's eyes bugged out of his head as he was lifted off the ground. Hands that Cyrus knew could break a human in half pulled at the hand around his throat to no effect.

Yankovich looked fascinated. "Interesting. It anticipates the necromancer's wishes and seems able to reason a suitable course of action." When the hand tightened and Zirala's choking was cut off from the pressure, he smirked. "Next time, Mr. Zirala, you might not want to piss off a necromancer more powerful than you. It lowers your life expectancy." He turned to Cyrus. "Order your zombie to let go before I lose one of my more promising students."

Cyrus watched as the vampire's face began to turn blue before he sighed. "Release him," he ordered. His eyes widened when the zombie looked at him but didn't obey. He frowned, eyes flashing to Zirala, whose eyes were beginning to roll up in his head. He let his death magic explode from under his core and fill his body to the brim. **"Release him."**

Finally, the undead obeyed, and Cyrus felt a chill other than the death magic sucking the heat out of him as he read _reluctance_ in that face. It couldn't feel… could it?

Zirala collapsed to the ground, heaving hair into his lungs. Contrary to popular rumour, vampires _did_ need to breath just like every other living species out there. They weren't 'dead' like in the muggle novels, their bodies just ceased to function while the virus transformed them into a _vampire_, and then afterwards started up again. It was the same as with werewolves. All diseases had been thought of as 'curses' before muggle medicine advanced enough to shed the light on pathogens.

Before he knew what was happening, Zirala was running at him with a furious expression on his face. Before he could rip Cyrus in two, however, the zombie seemed to _appear_ in front of Cyrus, its sword naked and glinting in the light, and the vampire abruptly changed course to run to the side.

Yankovich looked annoyed. "Zirala! You will cease this stupidity immediately. _You_ insulted the zombie and its owner, so don't take your anger out on the human when it's your own bloody fault you almost got strangled to death!"

Zirala glared and disapparated with an angry _crack_.

"The rest of you can leave as well. We'll be back here on Friday and you can give it another try. Dismissed! Not you, Obsidian. You and I are going to have a _chat_."

Cyrus plunked himself onto a nearby headstone in dismay, his eyes flashing between the zombie still poised in defense and the demon who looked very annoyed. The undead was watching Yankovich warily, its sword still held in a defensive position.

When all the students disapparated, Yankovich seemed to calm down slightly as he sat down across from Cyrus on a headstone of his own. As his anger diminished, so did Cyrus's feeling of _threat_, and the zombie sheathed its sword. Both human and demon stared at it as it seemed to take a military 'at ease' position, eyes forward and staring at nothing.

Yankovich broke the silence with a chuckle. "Only you, Obsidian. It makes me wonder what you could do if you used that death stick of yours as a channel." He shook his head, eyes taking turns between examining the zombie and the human across from him.

"Professor?"

The demon blinked. "Yes?"

Cyrus bit his lip. It wasn't a really appropriate question given the situation, but he still wanted to know. "Why do you call them zombies?" Yankovich blinked. "I mean, the wizarding world calls them inferi, and normally the books in Shikaan refer to them as the undead, or inferi, so I was wondering why you call them… you know, 'zombies'."

Yankovich grinned. "I got curious a while back and went on a huge zombie movie marathon." He shrugged when Cyrus stared at him in shock. "What? Just because I'm a demon I can't take advantage of muggle technology?"

"N-no, it's not that. It's just… You don't really seem like the kind of person to sit in front of a TV and…" he trailed off, wishing he'd never said anything, but Yankovich didn't seem to be annoyed with him. He watched the demon nervously as he shifted the weight of his wings and stood from the headstone.

"I guess." The demon shrugged. "Now, back to this amazing work of death." A look of intense fascination took over Yankovich's face as he poked the zombie's cheek. He kept poking until the zombie turned eerie eyes on him and _glared_. The demon grinned. "See? There's enough death magic in this thing to reanimate its _brain_ tissue, even though it's a couple hundred years old. That takes _power_, Obsidian."

Cyrus ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I didn't _mean_ for that to happen."

Yankovich grinned. "_Exactly_. What you did was completely without the _intention_. Do you know how many necromancers it normally takes to get a zombie this old regenerated to the point where it has higher brain function?" The human shook his head. "Five, at least!"

Cyrus frowned. "So, does this mean I'm some kind of death magic super freak, or what?"

Yankovich frowned in thought. "Generally the growth of death magic reflects the growth of normal magic. The way it works is that natural and death magic must either find balance within their host or one wipes out the existence of the other. That's why there are so few necromancers out there. When the natural magic overpowers the death magic, they are a normal magical being, but when the _death_ magic overpowers the _natural_… you have a stillborn." When the human stared at him in incomprehension, the demon sighed. "What I mean to say is, the reason you have so much death magic is because you have so much natural magic. The growth of one stimulates the growth of the other. So for instance, if you had some sort of experience in your childhood that stimulated your death magic, your natural magic would have to grow just as much to keep a balance. To keep you _alive_."

"Oh. So, I'm a natural _and_ death magic super freak."

Yankovich rolled his eyes. "Just because you're powerful doesn't make you a freak, Cyrus. It just makes you a very useful colleague to have." The demon grinned.

Cyrus nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, so what do we do about this guy?" He pointed at the zombie.

Yankovich 'hmmed'. "Well, you could keep him as a body guard or put him back to rest. It's your decision, really. The death magic that's keeping him alive – or dead depending on how you look at it – is already being regenerated. If you're going to pull the magic out of him, I'd suggest you do it quickly. Or I could put him to rest for you."

The zombie, who had been staring off into space, turned to look at Yankovich with a blank expression on his face. Cyrus found himself creeped out. Cautiously, he stood up, and the zombie turned its attention back to him. Peering into the dead eyes that seemed to almost house thought behind them, he opened his mouth to speak. "Can you talk?"

"What are your orders, Master?"

Cyrus jumped back two feet in surprise. Was it just him, or did the zombie look _amused?_ "Okay, you can talk. Can you think for yourself?" The zombie looked confused. "If I asked you who you were in life, would you know the answer?"

"Yes."

When the zombie didn't say anything else, Cyrus's lips quirked slightly in amusement. "If I asked you whether you were capable of wanting things, would you know the answer?"

"I would."

"What's the answer then?"

"I would inform my master that while I am capable of wants my foremost desire is to serve."

Blond eyebrows rose in surprise. "Huh. Oookay… Um… Do you want to go back to being dead?"

"I will fulfill my master's desires. If you desired that I go back to sleep, I would do so."

Cyrus turned to Yankovich. The demon frowned. "I would be uncomfortable with a zombie permanently under your control at your level. You don't have enough experience with the undead in case the shit hits the fan. So you should put him back."

The human bit his lip. "But what if he has a soul?"

Yankovich shook his head. "You should have already read about this in the assigned reading, Cyrus. No raised dead has a soul. They merely possess the same neural connections in their brain, which allows them to appear 'alive'. And this is only if you have enough juice to power that kind of regeneration of memory."

Cyrus nodded, making his decision. "I would like you to go back to rest."

The zombie nodded its head. The death magic was released from the skeleton, and with its disappearance the flesh melted into nothingness. Cyrus blinked when the bones and armour fell onto the ground with a racket. He winced.

Yankovich grinned. "Next time get the zombie to go back to its grave." He laughed. "Not bad for your first raising! You'd better hurry up before you're late for your next class."

"Thanks, Professor."

The demon grinned. "Don't thank me yet. You and I have to get together for a couple of private lessons, you're so far behind. You need to learn _control_, otherwise you might end up raising this entire graveyard by accident." Cyrus nodded. "I'll contact you with the times. I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit you into my schedule before Christmas." When Cyrus indicated he understood, the demon vanished with a soft pop.

Cyrus grinned slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. What a day. And it wasn't even over yet. He made a face at the thought of the vampire meeting he had to go to that night.

_oOo_

"Good, you're here. I was hoping you wouldn't chicken out and make a run for it." Tara smirked, flashing her pearly whites.

Cyrus glared. "And then what, I'd have you after my ass for weeks? No thanks. Best to get it over with."

"That's the spirit!" She wrapped an arm around one of his and they disappeared into shadow.

When Cyrus could breath again, he ripped his arm out of Tara's with a glare. "Warn me next time, damnit!"

She grinned amused, before the expression eerily wiped off her face. "Keep your mouth shut during this meeting unless you're spoken to. Say no more than you need to, and avoid the question if you can. It's better to appear mysterious and vague than idiotic. And for the love of blood, _don't_ under _any circumstance_ insult another vampire. I'd prefer to not have to fight for your soul any time tonight, if it can be avoided."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "That's a lot of rules. Mouth shut, don't insult anybody, and try not to say too much."

She nodded. "And _don't_ speak unless directly spoken to, alright? The only ones you can start conversation with are the other humans, but be careful what you say. Some of them have been bred into this life in _this realm_, not the human realm. That means they could easily have been told to report anything you say to their master. Or worse."

The human frowned. "Or worse? What could be worse?"

Tara raised an amused eyebrow. "Oh, they could be ordered to seduce you. Or castrate you. Or a number of other unpleasant things. Keep in mind that while we're here, you _represent_ me, and if you _fuck up_ my name I _will_ remove your manly appendages, are we clear?" By the end of her rant she was right in her face, never mind the fact that she was a foot shorter than him.

"Crystal," he grumbled, eyes narrowed and not enjoying himself one bit.

Tara smiled. "Good. Now follow me. We're in an ally about a block from the club."

Cyrus started walking beside her and she glared. "On my left, two paces back. Make it snappy." He corrected and glared at the back of her head for a moment before attempting to wipe his face of expression. It would be easier to be stoic than try to anticipate what emotions would not be considered insulting.

Shelby's Blood Bath was a three story building on the corner of the block literally glowing with red lights. Right above the name's cursive writing was a pair of lips attached to a neck, dripping blood. Cyrus's mouth twitched as he tried to keep a grimace off his face.

The noise level when the entered the club nearly made Cyrus's ears ring with pain. How did vampires, with their sensitive hearing, stand this stuff? He wanted to ask Tara, but doubted that she would appreciate it in this setting. Normally she would give him information or advice for free, but that was only because they were either alone or in her library. Anyone who fucked with Tara in her library would find themselves five books short of their final paper.

Keeping his eyes trained on the back of Tara's head, he followed her through the crowd of grinding bodies and the heavy scent of blood and sex. He couldn't keep the momentary grimace off his face as he caught sight of a woman sinking her fangs into another vampire's _dick_ and licking the blood off him.

After that, he kept his eyes trained worshipfully on Tara's back.

Eventually they made their way through the crowd to a door that led to a set of stairs. Keeping himself two paces back, Cyrus followed Tara up two floors worth of stairs. When they finally reached the top, he could barely hear the music on the main floor the soundproofing was so good. Or maybe it was magic.

"Tara!" a French accent called from one of the leather couches that sat in the corner of the lounge-like third floor. "We 'ad been sinking zat you would not come!"

Cyrus kept his eyes on Tara's back as she weaved between many bodies and made her way to the couch to hug the other vampire. After the hug, he placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, eliciting a giggle. "Hey Francois! I wondered if you were going to come. Are we a full house tonight?"

He grinned. "Je pense, oui! Eizer way it is very close." His gorgeous blue eyes flashed to Cyrus for a moment before looking back at Tara. "Is zis your most recent acquisition? He is very fine, zough I am not partial to blonde 'air myself."

She grinned. "Yeah, this is him. He's got one of those old wizarding family libraries."

Francois laughed. "I see! Indeed, zat would catch your fancy quite fast, oui. Is he good also for ozer sings? Comme, euh, perhaps under ze covers, non?"

Tara laughed, smacking him on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. "Of course not, you oaf! You know I prefer the finer sex. They're more…" she smiled. "Detail oriented."

Francois's mouth formed a knowing 'oh'. "Ah, oui. I see. Very true. Some men are un peu… careless? Rushed? Is zere a better word?"

"No, I think that about covers it. Though I'm sure _you_ would never be careless in bed, Francois."

He grinned. "Mais non, ma cheri. I am ze epitome of self control."

Tara grinned and sat down next to him on the couch. She motioned Cyrus towards her with a sharp gesture. When she pointed at the floor, he just _barely_ kept the 'are you fucking serious?' look off his face. He sat cross-legged on the floor and kept his head down. What were the rules again? Don't speak, don't insult, and don't… um…

"Now that we're all here, I'd just like to make a congratulatory announcement. If you'll all be silent." The room quieted within seconds, and the following silence was eerie. "Thank you. I'd like to announce that May Divernend and Joshua Tinctoris will be having a newborn eight months from today." There was polite applause and a few cheers. "So May is off limits to any and all squabbles until her baby is born, understood? Good. If I find out that we have another Jenny Atwoods on our hands, I will slaughter all parties involved. Again."

Cyrus glanced up in surprise for a moment, catching a glimpse of black hair and pearly white teeth before Tara had put her hand on his head and shoved it back down. He stared sullenly at the floor. Maybe he should have asked how long he was expected to suffer through this. At least then he could have set a stopwatch.

"Second on the list of things to announce – Garius, if I catch that look on your face again you won't _have_ a face – I'd like to inform you all of a cleansing taking place in the ninth district. They've come down with an advanced form of rabies again. So if you were planning on visiting any family there, I suggest you _don't_ until they have the situation under control. Otherwise you may find yourself not making it back to Shikaan for a couple months. Or ever. That would do wonders for your marks.

"And finally, before we open the floor for discussion, I'd like you all to know that the next scheduled fight for leadership is Friday night, and that the sheet to sign up is posted on the bulletin board. If you try to fight me for the title _before_ then, you won't wake up the following morning. Any comments? No? Good. Who's first this week for open topic discussions?"

"Keith!" one of the vampires shouted. A chanted 'Keith' started until said vampire made his way up to the podium.

Cyrus wasn't sure whether the seemingly organized meeting of bloodthirsty vampires creeped him out or not.

"Thanks, everyone. I appreciate the support. First off I'd like to discuss feeding rights in sector 2. They've been trying to stop us from feeding there for months now, but they actually have a decent group of higher-ranking fae fighting now for it to be a fang-free zone. I think we need to do something about it! Faerie blood is one of the most delicious foods out there. We can't let them ban us from the zone!"

Cyrus raised an incredulous eyebrow at his foot. 'Really. I wonder _why_ they want to ban you. Bloodsucking leeches. How is a ban enforced, anyway…' he pondered to himself, counting down from ten ever ten seconds to keep himself thinking that the night _could _end.

The meeting was boring and long, though it gave Cyrus some insight into the way the vampire community at Shikaan worked. He also found out that faeries had, among the best glamours out there, the best 'notice-me-not' warding systems. Apparently, whether the vampires wanted it or not, sector 2 was probably going to disappear off the map in the next couple of months. From what he could gather from the meeting, a few faeries had died from being fed on too often, and that had pushed the higher ups in the society to make some drastic decisions.

It was _after_ the 'business', however, that Cyrus began having problems.

"Tara! Oh lookey here, you actually have a human servant. I never thought you would, Tara, you've always insisted that humans are so below you." Cyrus decided right away, by the abrasive quality of her voice, that he hated her. And that she was probably blond. Which didn't leave a high opinion of his own hair, mind. Maybe he should change it back to black?

"Hello, Thumblina. And how fares your harem of eunuchs, if I might ask?"

Cyrus glanced up in time to see a _very_ dirty expression cross the brunette's face. Drat, he'd guessed the hair wrong. At least he didn't have to change his own now, though. He quickly looked back to the floor.

"My name's Thumalina, as you well know, Tara."

"Oh, my mistake. I must have you confused with someone else."

"Oh no, It's _my_ mistake. I must have confused you for a vampire with some _intelligence_."

"I must have mistaken you for someone _literate_."

"Forgive me," she fake-sneezed, "but I'm allergic to _ugly_."

"Oh I _am_ sorry. You must break out in rashes all the time, as you can't escape from _yourself_."

"Careful what comes out of your mouth, Tara, you wouldn't want to insult the wrong person."

Cyrus could hear the smile in Tara's voice. "Well then I guess I won't be having any problems in this company, will I? It was so wonderful seeing you again, Thumblina, but I'm afraid I can't devote all my time to every one of my fans. Have a good Christmas!" There was a pause and then Tara exclaimed happily, completely ignoring Thumalina, "Why hello, Melanie! I haven't seen you in _so long!_" She stood up for a moment, gave the new arrival a hug, and Cyrus watched with some humour as the stiletto-heeled feet of Thumalina sauntered away.

"She's as charming as ever. Did one of her eunuchs fail to satisfy her appetites before she came tonight?" Tara and the new girl giggled quietly.

"I'm sure it was something like that. You'd think she was trying to convince herself she wasn't madly attracted to me, with the way she picks up those eunuchs left and right." They laughed raucously together and sat down on the couch. "Move over, Francois, and make room for Melanie."

"Why, Tara! You wound my 'eart!"

"Get over it. Now, Mel, give me the low down on the new arrivals. I can't be troubled to introduce myself to the fresh blood."

The higher voice giggled. "Of course. _Anything_ for you, Tara." And they proceeded into a conversation that Cyrus was _sure_ didn't make any logical sense, with all the weird terms and social references that they made left, right, and center. His eyes were drooping as he leaned back against the couch when he caught sight of a pair of pink eyes inches from his face. He started and tried to move back, but hit the couch.

The high-pitched voice giggled, and Cyrus matched the voice of Melanie to the girl in front of him. Did she _really_ have pink eyes or had she changed them magically?

"He's got really cute eyes, Tara. Are they enhanced like mine? So many people change their appearance nowadays it's so hard to know if they're actually cute or not!"

Tara snorted. "I don't know, and I don't really care. _I'm_ not having sex with him."

Melanie pouted. "But what if _I_ wanted to? I'd want to know if his eyes were natural or not."

Cyrus felt his blood freeze.

"Why don't you just _ask_ him?"

Melanie gasped. "Actually _talk_ to it? Gross!"

Tara snorted. "He's not an _it_, Mel. Take that tone out of your voice or I'll rip your voice box out."

"Touchie, Touchie." Melanie pouted, apparently not daunted in the least at the threat. "How much would he cost for me to buy from you?"

"I'm not selling him, Mel. He's a student at Shikaan."

Melanie's cotton-candy smile disappeared in an instant, and she took a few steps away. "Oh. Why didn't you tell me that before I put a potential assassin on my ass?"

"Because it's more amusing to watch you trip, love."

Melanie pouted, still eyeing Cyrus carefully. "You're so mean. I should have guessed, though, with this outfit of his. I thought it was just a sexy snake suit at first, though. It's basilisk skin, isn't it?" Cyrus couldn't see Tara, but she appeared to have answered with some gesture. "Hmm. What's he good at? Which classes?"

"I dunno, really. Never asked." She put her hand on Cyrus's head and ruffled his hair. He resisted the urge to growl. "Cyrus, what classes are you taking? Speak."

Bitch. "Dark Arts and Their Defense, Weapons and Battle, Necromancy, Healing, Animagus, Wandless, and Runes."

Melanie 'oohed'. "Can you ask him if he can conjure me a rose without a wand?"

Cyrus resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Tara 'relayed' the question. "No. I don't know the spell."

Melanie 'tutted'. "Not good. It's important that every man learn how to conjure flowers for his woman. Unless he's gay, of course. Or his girlfriend's like Tara. Do you remember the time that Dar… Um… Darlish? Anyway, that vampire tried to give you roses to get you to go to the dance with him? He was sooo smooth. But you just up and nearly shoved them down his throat."

Tara chuckled. "His name is Dalesh, love. "

"Oh right! He's here, isn't he? I'm sure I saw him with those sluts at some point…"

"You should be careful who you call a slut, my dear. They might consider it an insult," the familiar voice of Dalesh came through the gentle cacophony of voices.

Melanie's voice took on a blithe tone. "Slut's not an insult, handsome. It's an occupation. It takes full time effort to keep up that level of sex. Doesn't it, girls?"

The two girls hanging off Dalesh's arms hissed, but didn't say anything. Cyrus privately thought that perhaps they weren't up to the task of the flowery speech of vampire politics. The human would happily admit his own ineptitude if it meant he could escape this place any sooner.

Dalesh didn't say anything for a moment. Then, his voice turned mocking. "Why Tara, I didn't think you'd actually bring your new pet to this meeting. Touring him, are you? There isn't much to see, really."

Tara placed a hand on Cyrus's head and began running her claws through his hair. What _was_ she doing that for? "Actually, there's plenty to show off. Apparently he's an up and coming necromancer. Rumour has it that your brother, Zirala, got hung out to dry in Necromancy class today. Strangulation by Zombie. It'd make a great title in the school newspaper."

Dalesh grimaced. "Really, Tara. Don't use that plebeian speak _here_ of all places. I know you like to read those muggle tabloids, but you really shouldn't display your human-loving nature here."

Tara hissed at him. "Careful, Dalesh. I wouldn't want your words to be mistaken for an _order_. I might introduce you to my blade again. We both know what happened the _last_ time."

"Of course. What _did_ the human offer to your for your protection, Tara? Perhaps he keeps you company during those lonely nights without your _Amelia_."

The silence was deafening. Some of the vampires nearby had stopped mid-conversation to turn their attention to the events unfolding before them. Cyrus could feel the cold energy of Tara zap down his spine from the contact in his hair. Her hand tightened their grip, their strength pulling on his scalp and their claws raking gouges in his skin. He couldn't suppress the groan that escaped his lips or the shudder of his body as he forced it not to move away from the pain.

Smelling the blood, Tara removed her hand, and Cyrus could hear her licking the blood off her fingers. He watched Dalesh's face as the vampire watched Tara with heat in his eyes. Was the vampire still getting off on his blood, or what?

He sighed in relief and healed the wounds with a small burst of healing magic to his scalp. Who was Amelia?

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was merely asking what we were all thinking, I hope you understand. He's such a _fine_ specimen of _human_ beauty. Of course, he cannot hold a candle to the beauty of Amelia."

"You would do well to be silent, Dalesh, before you are silenced forever." Cyrus had never heard Tara's voice so cold.

The vampire didn't seem to notice. "I was only asking out of concern for your well-being, Tara. It would be better if you spent your affections on one deserving of them, after all. Or maybe you found a better lover than Amelia? She _was_ lacking in a certain grace. I could understand your reasoning for not being seen with her again."

"You know very well that she's dead, Dalesh. You should be careful insulting the dead when they're not here to defend themselves."

Dalesh snorted. "Really? But I have not insulted anyone, Tara. I was merely observing your fascination with this human."

Cyrus felt anger on Tara's behalf. Obviously this 'Amelia' meant a lot to her, and the fact that she was _dead_, well… that was low. Low even for Dalesh. His eyes narrowed.

"After all, such fascination really does not flatter the skill of your past lover. And oh, she was skilled." He leaned forward and whispered. "I had quite the taste of her before she disappeared forever."

Cyrus heard the leather behind him creak under the strength of Tara's claws. What was Dalesh implying?

"She would never sleep with the likes of you, _Akkad_."

Dalesh's mouth formed an 'oh'. "Wow, we're reduced to clan names now, _Bast_. And no, she _didn't _sleep with me." He smirked. "There wasn't a bed involved."

Cyrus heard the leather begin to tear.

"They never did find the vampires that raped and killed her, _Akkad_. Are you implying that you were involved in some way?"

Dalesh adopted an innocent expression. "I have no idea what you mean, Tara. They never found any evidence."

It felt like a cube of ice had been dropped down Cyrus's spine. Dalesh had done _that_ to Tara's girlfriend? Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Why wasn't _Tara?_ He had basically admitted to raping and killing Amelia without ever saying the words! Why wasn't he dead on the ground?!

Furious on Tara's behalf, and never quite liking Dalesh in the first place, Cyrus unleashed his magic and sent a wandless cutting curse at Dalesh's dick. The vampire dodged the attack fast enough that it only sliced his hip in half. Blood gushed onto the varnished floor.

"How _dare _you attack me, you pitiful human!" Dalesh's easy confidence was destroyed as he held a hand to his hip and tried to hold the wound shut. He turned to Tara. "Your human servant _attacked_ me! I will cut off his head!" Dalesh cried out, pulling a sword from its sheath on his back, ignoring the female vampire on his side that had gotten sliced as well. She was crying pitifully on the floor, her 'twin' casting healing spells on her. At least one of them was competent.

Tara started laughing cruelly, and it silenced every conversation in the room with finality. "You forget, Dalesh, that as I am his owner he is _my_ responsibility to protect." Cyrus looked up to see Tara with the darkest look of sick pleasure he had ever seen on a vampire's face, the glow of her crimson eyes burning with her fury as she summoned her rune-covered sword to her hand. "Thanks for giving me every excuse to kill you, Dalesh."

The vampire's look of horror was still etched on his face even as his cleanly cleaved body split down the middle and fell to the floor with a spray and gurgle of blood.

Tara turned to Cyrus with a grim set to her lips. "Normally I'd punish you for such blatant disregard to my authority, but this time I'll make an exception." She held out a hand to pull him off the floor. "We're leaving."

Cyrus, one side of his face covered in rapidly cooling blood, grasped her hand.

It had been the abrupt end to the evening he'd been wishing for.

They disappeared into the shadows and reappeared in a room Cyrus had never seen before. Tara immediately let go of his hand and stalked over to a large window. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared into the darkness of the night.

Cyrus slowly stood up, watching Tara warily. He wasn't entirely sure she was _stable._

They stood in silence for a couple of minutes before Tara let out an angry breath and ran her hands through her hair. She ran a hand over her face, and Cyrus wondered if she had been crying. He didn't think he'd ever know, though. When she turned around, her red eyes were serious and still glowing, and there was no trace of tears on her cheeks.

"I don't know if I should thank you or kick your ass."

The human shifted on his feet, wondering if he should prepare to make a break for it.

"There's going to be consequences for killing Dalesh, you know. He's one of the direct descendents of the _Akkad_ clad." Tara's face gave nothing away.

Cyrus frowned. "What kind of consequences?"

Tara shrugged. "I was within my rights to kill him, as he threatened to kill my human servant. However, they could also argue that you attacked him first, and that as my servant, you represent _me_. It depends, really, on how willing to listen the clan leaders are. I doubt Sargon himself will get involved. If he does, though, Amenirdis will respond in kind."

Cyrus frowned. "Who are Sargon and Amen-er…"

Tara glared at him. "Amen_irdis_. They are two of the five elders, and Sargon is the First."

Blond eyebrows rose. "'The first?' What's that mean?"

"The oldest vampire, you idiot."

_-Toki Mirage-_

Another chapter that wasn't intended to be this long, but here it is. Some of you might think it's filler, but you should know that everything that happened in this chapter was _necessary_. Aftermath is important. :) Christmas comes next chapter, people! And where will Cyrus spend this holiday? Remus finally makes an appearance after being neglected for many a chapter. And so does Snape, for those of you who like him.

Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter Eleven: Christmas Holidays

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Eleven:

_oOo_

Cyrus looked at the duffel on his bed that he'd conjured to put his stuff in, wondering if he'd forgotten anything. Tara had kidnapped his trunk for the holidays, saying that if she couldn't get a bite out of him for that long, she was taking _full_ advantage of his library.

Of course, he hadn't let go of the family heirloom until she'd sworn a vow to take care of it and make sure none of the books got stolen.

Walking to his bed, he reached under it and pulled out the trunk he'd stolen from Dumbledore. As he knew the password, he'd left the wards in place. Pulling his invisibility cloak out and staring at it for a moment, he wondered if he'd need it. He shrugged. You'd never know when it could come in handy. He stuffed it into his duffel bag and closed the mini-trunk, ignoring the book sitting on the bottom. He'd glanced at it once, but never read it. Why would Dumbledore leave a children's book for Harry Potter? He was meaning to read the tales at some point, as it must be _somewhat_ important, but he'd never quite gotten around to it with all the homework and training he had to do in a week.

He stuffed the trunk back under his bed. Pulling out his mini-bookcase, he checked that all the books he needed for his Christmas homework and training were there before shrinking it again and putting it in the bottomless bag attached to his waist. With one more cursory glance around the room, he apparated.

_oOo_

He appeared just outside the door of Spinner's End with a _crack_. He figured it was politer to appear outside than in the middle the living room during… adult activities. There was _always_ a chance. And really, if the wards didn't like him, he'd rather not accidentally splinch himself.

Casting a wandless warming charm on himself, he knocked. While waiting for someone to answer the door, he glanced around at the rolling white mounds of frozen condensation around him. He'd missed snow, actually. They didn't have much of the wonderfully fluffy substance at Shikaan because every time it snowed the teachers just vanished it from the courtyards and pathways. He wasn't sure if they were all snow-haters or there was a more practical reason. Probably the latter.

When no one answered the door for a half a minute, Cyrus frowned and knocked louder. Still no answer. Shrugging, he tried to open the door. The knob wouldn't budge.

Shit. Maybe he should have sent advance notice? Snape knew he was coming, though. Surely they were just 'out' for a little while? Letting out a sigh and glaring at the puff of condensation that floated into the air, he activated his rune sight, not bothering to close his eyes as no one was around to see him. As he 'read' the wards on the house, he smiled. After doing the intense study of Dumbledore's wards, he knew most of the runes that were used in _this_ ward, so the process of reading and analyzing went much faster. After finding the 'keys' to the wards, he sussed out three signatures of magic encoded into the key structure. Finding his own magical signature among them, he grinned. Since he was already keyed into the wards, they wouldn't… he examined the execution structure. 'Remove his skin and hang him upside down from the gate by his entrails.' He laughed as he disabled the lock on the door and slipped into the house, turning it back on behind him. Snape really did have a creative side. If he were Picasso, his favourite colour would be red.

After unpacking his stuff in his old room, Cyrus went into the living room and moved all the furniture to the walls. Hopefully Snape wouldn't get pissed at him for touching his stuff, but he needed to keep working out and training every morning with the absence of Weapons and Battle running him into the ground. He was in the middle of one of the katas when Remus appeared in front of him with a _crack_. There was widening eyes on both their parts before Cyrus's fist smacked into the werewolf's face.

"Shit! Sorry Remus, I didn't think you'd just apparate into the living room like that." Cyrus winced.

Remus chuckled softly, rubbing his chin with his hand from where he'd landed on the ground. "Not a bad punch, Cyrus." He grinned. "It's pretty impressive when a human can knock a werewolf to the ground. Training has been going well?"

Cyrus grinned slightly, still worried that he'd injured the man. "Yeah, but I never would have landed a hit if you'd been prepared for it."

Remus laughed. "That's probably true." He grinned, and Cyrus could see a bit of gold leak into those tawny eyes. "You want to test that theory sometime? I could spar with you. Severus has been teaching me some things. Says that if I get myself killed by staying in the Order, it won't be because I couldn't fight back if I lost my wand."

Cyrus frowned. "You're still in the Order? Why? I thought you'd quit with Snape."

Remus shook his head and pulled himself off the ground. He patted his robes down. "No. We both agreed that it would be best if one of us remained in order to lower suspicions. Nobody in the Order knows that Severus and I are mates." He smiled wryly. "And it's a good idea to have a spy in both worlds. Severus has stayed with Voldemort, and I stay with Dumbledore. We save people if we can before a raid, and I keep Severus apprised of the Order's movement so he doesn't get caught."

"Why doesn't Snape just leave the Death Eaters? And why did Voldemort just let him quit? Isn't he a spy?"

The werewolf sighed and made his way to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself two fingers of scotch before answering. "Severus's loyalty was brought into question at the end of last year. Taking advantage of the situation, Severus explained to Voldemort why he was no longer a useful spy and why he had to quit. He was tortured quite… severely, for his failure, and now he mostly brews potions. Severus and I have been having… disagreements about his remaining with the Death Eaters for some time. If he chose to leave, Voldemort could still cause him a huge amount of pain through the Dark Mark. It might even be able to kill him."

Cyrus frowned. "Why don't you just remove the Dark Mark?"

Remus looked at him like he was crazy. "And who would have the power and the skill to remove it? Nobody has ever been able to do it before."

The human scratched his chin in thought. "Well, it's a spell, right? If you got a Rune Master to look at it, they might be able to take it off."

The werewolf frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe. Is Runes one of the classes you're taking?"

Cyrus nodded. "Yep. We have an amazing teacher. Did I tell you about him when I came to visit in the beginning of October?"

Remus smiled. "You might have. Much has happened between then and now, however."

The human nodded.

"So, tell me how school has been going. I remember that you were quite adamant that you continue your education there after September. Do you still feel the same way?" Remus poured himself more scotch.

Cyrus grinned. "Yeah! I mean, the teachers are great. Rivehn let me skip a year because I was getting so far ahead," at Remus's confused look, he continued, "Runes, that is. In Animagus class I'm getting close to finding my animal. Weapons and Battle is tough. We rotate through different teachers depending on what we're doing each class. They're going to bring in the weapons specialist after Christmas, which is exciting. I'm not sure what kind of weapon I want, but I'm leaning towards a blade. Healing has been very helpful, Dark Arts and Their Defense is interesting, and Necromancy… Well, I finally had a break through in that class. I'd been hitting a wall for a while."

Remus looked curious. "Really? What kind of wall?"

Cyrus blinked. Had Snape not mentioned the feather fiasco? Wouldn't Remus know about his capture in Hogwarts? Unless… unless Dumbledore never told the Order. And wasn't _that_ a sticky question… "Um, well, let's just say that before my magics were unbalanced and now they aren't."

The werewolf nodded thoughtfully, sipping at his drink. "Speaking of necromancy, did you hear about what happened at Hogwarts?"

Cyrus blinked innocently. "Hm? What happened?"

Remus chuckled. "Well, looking back on it it's rather funny, but the wizarding world was in an uproar for a couple of days before Dumbledore smoothed things over." When Cyrus wore a 'confused' expression, the werewolf elaborated, "There was a dead basilisk on the loose in Hogwarts. Needless to say, many parents were incredibly angry. No one knows how it even got there, and it didn't hurt anyone except for the occasional student nearly trampled by their peers, but it took nearly the entire staff casting fiendfyre to get rid of it." The wolf grinned darkly. "I can just imagine Dumbledore running around like a headless chicken. I bet it didn't happen, but I'd still pay money to see something like it."

Cyrus laughed nervously. "Yeah, me too. It'd be funny to see him off of that high horse of his."

"Yes. I'm surprised, though, that you never heard anything about it. Doesn't Shikaan carry the news? The latest Prophet is on the counter if you'd like to take a look at it. I haven't read it yet, so let me know if there's anything useful to know." By this time, they'd gravitated into the kitchen and Remus handed him the paper as he prepared some coffee.

Cyrus took it with a grin. "Thanks. They have multiple subscriptions, but they only bring in one Prophet each day because the paper is complete rubbish, and by the third person reading it it's about burnt to a crisp. I've only ever gotten my hands on a few."

The werewolf laughed. "If only I could do that with all of _my _papers. Unfortunately, I have to keep my eyes on the politics going on around us. Besides, it helps to know when some werewolves have been wrongly imprisoned, because then Severus and I get them out again."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Really? You and Snape are running an un underground railroad?"

"Something like that. What did you want for dinner?"

The human blinked at the abrupt change of conversation. "Uh, I dunno. Steak? Haven't had a good steak in a while."

Remus smiled and finished off his scotch. "Steak it is. Did you want to cook it yourself or would you like me to?"

Cyrus shrugged. "Whatever works for you. I could go study, or if you want some downtime, I could cook."

The werewolf smiled. "Ah, that's alright. I'll cook tonight. You've only just gotten back, after all."

"Thanks." He plunked himself down at the kitchen table with his Prophet and gratefully accepted a cup of tea. Unrolling the paper with one hand, he sipped at his drink and nearly spewed it all over the table at the title.

_The Boy-Who-Lived the Next You-Know-Who? Disturbing Events at Hogwarts_

_In an earth shattering press conference today, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry released daunting information about our well-loved savior! Apparently it has been determined by parties involved that Harry Potter was directly involved in the rampaging dead basilisk nearly a week ago!_

_According to Dumbledore, Potter returned to Hogwarts on a mission as of yet undetermined. This will both relieve and worry readers, for now we know that Potter has not been abducted, but instead chose to leave himself! What was he doing in Hogwarts? Was it his intention to endanger the student population? Was he responsible for the disappearance of one Ronald Weasley? Where is he now? These are questions that we ask and may never find answers to, now that the Boy-Who-Lived has disappeared once more._

_If Potter was indeed involved with the tragic property destruction at Hogwarts a week ago, what does this mean? Did he have outside help raising the basilisk from the dead, or did he do it himself? Is he the next You-Know-Who in the making? Has he abandoned the Light and turned to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? If you have any information concerning the missing Boy-Who-Lived, please forward your information to the Auror's department at the Ministry of Magic._

Cyrus swore viciously under his breath, tossing the paper down on the table and drinking from his tea. Of course Dumbledore forgot to mention that _he had locked Cyrus in a bloody dungeon!_ And he wasn't sure whether Weasley came down to torture him for his own amusement or had timely _nudging_ in the right direction, but the 'Light' was in no way innocent in this incident! It pissed him off that they only had one side of the story, but he sure as hell wasn't going to put himself on the interview chopping block.

While he was quietly fuming to himself, Remus had put down his knife and picked up the paper to read. When he finished, he smacked it down on the table and gave Cyrus a _look_.

The human couldn't hold back his snarl. "Don't give me that crap, Remus. It was Dumbledore's goddamn fault I had to use a dead basilisk to escape his bloody dungeons."

Surprisingly calm, Remus sat himself down at the table and poured himself a cup of tea. "I'm not saying anything until you give me the whole story." He looked up sharply. "Everything. Now."

So Cyrus told him about the feather, Dumbledore's betrayal – _again_ – and Ron's part in the event. The werewolf remained impartial until the very end, set down his cup of tea, and ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.

"You get into as much trouble as your father," he muttered under his breath. Cyrus couldn't help but crack a small smile at that. "Well, first of all, I would have liked to have found this out from _you_, and not the Prophet, but Severus is going to get into just as much shit as you for keeping this from me." He shook his head, disappointment shining in his eyes. "I can't believe Ron Weasley capable of the Cruciatus curse. He was brought up in a Light family! Every moral he would have been taught should have protected him from the Dark Arts." He ran a hand over his face.

Cyrus snorted. "Like the Blacks and Sirius?" Remus flinched, but Cyrus ploughed on, ignoring the wound that opened in his chest thinking about Sirius. He'd managed to ignore his pain for the past months, as he was too busy with his studies to let himself get depressed, but… He shook his head, pushing such negative thoughts away. "Just because you're raised in a Light or Dark family doesn't mean that you'll follow that path. I don't know when R- Weasley started learning Dark Arts, but he had enough skill with the Cruciatus to hold it for a couple _minutes_, Remus." He bit his lip and frowned. "When I tried to cast it, I couldn't get it for a few _seconds_."

Remus looked up sharply at that. "When did you try to cast a Cruciatus curse, Cyrus?"

Shifting nervously in his seat, he took a sip of tea. "After Sirius… fell through the veil. I hated Bellatrix _so much_… but even then I couldn't get the spell to work. I mean, I can cast Avada Kedavra now, but I don't think I could pull off a Crucio." He shook his head and glanced up from his tea.

Remus was very pale. "C-cyrus, when did you learn Avada Kedavra?"

"After my first Necromancy class. We couldn't find my death magic, so Yankovich had me try the spell." He shrugged. "It worked just fine."

The werewolf was staring at him incredulously. " 'Worked just fine'? Cyrus, do you have any idea the amount of power and experience with the Dark Arts it takes to cast that spell?"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Remus, I'm a necromancer. Death is my thing. And besides, we're learning Dark Arts in DATD."

"What's DATD?"

"Dark Arts and Their Defense. This is _Shikaan_ we're talking about, Remus. They don't play nice." He took a sip of tea. "They teach us how to learn Dark magic without losing ourselves in it, Remus. We're taught how to fight the addiction from the very beginning. I mean, there are a few people who had Dark Arts experience before Shikaan, and some of them have far more difficulties than the rest of us, but if they're addicted to Dark magic then the teacher just shows them how to control that addiction in safe ways. As far as I know, none of them are going out and torturing muggles for fun." He scowled.

Remus sighed. "I understand, I just… I still worry about you. Even Severus, with his taste for Dark magic…" He frowned. "It worries me. Sometimes… sometimes I think he actually enjoys it. What they do in Voldemort's circle. And other times I think he's going mad from the stress." He ran a hand over his face and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Cyrus frowned. What were you supposed to say to that? I'm sorry? He didn't actually know Snape all that well, when he thought about it. Remus and Snape were his pseudo guardians, but he never got to spend much time with them. He _liked_ them, but… he didn't think they were like a 'normal' family. No, not really.

"I'm sure Snape can take care of himself," he said softly, tying to be consoling. It didn't seem to help, but Remus gave him a tired smile and started cooking again. Feeling awkward, Cyrus mumbled that he was going to his room to study and beat it.

'Why worry about things you have no control over?' he tried to consol himself, but even in his thoughts he didn't sound convinced.

_oOo_

Snape didn't make it home for a few days, so both Remus and Cyrus kept their eyes glued to the papers for Death Eater news. When every Order meeting Remus was called to didn't produce any more fruit, either, they began to worry.

It was Christmas Eve when the letter came by owl.

It seemed inconspicuous enough, at first. Cyrus, who was reading one of the runes books he'd removed from his library before Tara had gotten her hands on it, was sitting in front of the fire in the living room when Remus opened the window to let the bird in. He remained unconcerned at the arrival until the brandy glass in Remus's hand _shattered_.

Immediately, Cyrus was on his feet and moving towards the werewolf, book forgotten on the floor. He stopped a few feet away from Remus, wary of the gold eyes and the look of positive _fury_ on Remus's face.

"_How dare he?!_" the older man growled, tightening his hand on the shards of glass in his palm until blood started dripping to the floor. Carefully, Cyrus took the fist into his hand and gently pried it open. Wandlessly removing the glass shards, he used the knowledge he had obtained from Healing class to heal the cuts. He vanished the blood and glass.

"What happened?" Cyrus asked, releasing the healed hand that had tightened into a fist once more.

"_Fenrir_. That's what happened. That… that… argh!" He grabbed the brandy bottle and threw it into the fire. It hit the back of the fireplace with a satisfying _crack_, the alcohol sparking the flame brighter for a moment before the fuel was consumed.

"Remus? What happened," Cyrus asked more urgently. He wanted in the loop. _Now_.

"Fenrir has Severus. He's threatening that if I don't return to the pack and defend my position as beta, he's going to _kill my mate!_"

Cyrus frowned, completely confused. "Beta?"

Remus ran an angry and shaking hand through his hair. "I killed the old beta a few weeks ago by accident. I haven't been back to a gathering since, to either take up my new position or to let someone fight me for it."

The human raised an eyebrow. "How do you kill a werewolf by accident?"

Remus gave him a withering look. "Warrick pissed me off during the last full moon. He always had a big mouth. And a big appetite, for _little girls_. Something he picked up from Fenrir, I'm sure, except _Fenrir_ leans towards the little _boys_. Warrick would hunt them down, terrify them, and then _rape_ them before turning them. If they survived, great, if they didn't, he couldn't give two shits. He deserved what he got!" Golden eyes were glowing furiously.

Cyrus held up submissive hands. "I'm not arguing with you. Sounds like a real piece of work. I'm sure he got every bit he deserved. The question is, how are we going to deal with Fenrir taking Snape?"

Remus paced the room in agitation. "I don't know. I mean, how did he even _capture_ Severus in the first place? A vampire, even one not completely Shikaan trained, is no easy capture. They must have surprised him. Or caught him while he was wounded during a raid."

Cyrus fingered his death wand. "We shouldn't make any assumptions until we have the facts, Remus. Does it matter if we know how they caught him? How does that help us rescue him? We need to know _facts._ Where is Fenrir's hideout. How many werewolves does he have in his pack. Who are the most dangerous that we need to pay special care in dealing with. Do they have Snape with them, or is he subdued at a different location?"

Remus, who had stopped halfway through his tirade, was staring at him as if he'd never seen him before.

Cyrus's eyebrow twitched irritably. "Stop staring at me like doe in front of the head lights and start helping me answer some of these questions! We need a plan if we're going to get Snape back. Snap out of this angry prowling of yours and use your _common sense!_"

The glow of Remus's eyes faded slightly as he got himself under control. "Y-yes. Yes, you're right." He ran a hand through his hair again and chuckled nervously. There was a newfound respect in his eyes as he looked at Cyrus now. "You sure have grown in three and a half months."

Cyrus smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah, well, when nearly everyone's out to get you or just out for themselves, you have to grow a little to survive."

Remus shared his poor humour. "You shouldn't shoot yourself down like that, Cyrus. You're only sixteen, but you're much farther along than many adults these days." He shook his head and stared pensively at the fire. "And you're right. We need a plan. No, _I_ need a plan."

Cyrus gave him a look. "I'm not letting you go and save Snape alone." When Remus opened his mouth to argue, he unleashed his churning magic for a second before pulling it back under his skin. "While I may not be a Shikaan graduate, I've been training non stop for nearly the past four months. I _am_ going to help you save Snape, or you're going to find yourself tied in knots while _I_ go to save Snape." Cyrus grinned. "Fenrir isn't going to expect you to bring help along."

Remus looked highly disagreeable. "No, Fenrir wouldn't expect me to bring company, but you can't ask me to endanger a child!" At Cyrus's furious look, he continued, "You _are_ a child, Cyrus. You are an incredibly intelligent young man, but I can't in good conscience bring you under the nose of one of the most dangerous predators known to wizarding society."

Cyrus glared. "That's not your decision to make!"

"As your guardian it _is!_"

"You aren't legally my guardian!" Cyrus shouted, and Remus looked as if he'd slapped him with a two-by-four. "I don't know who the fuck owns the leash of Harry Potter these days, but Cyrus Obsidian doesn't exist! And I won't let you just ignore the skills that I can bring to the table in the mission to save Snape! You'll have to tie me up in the basement to leave me behind!"

Before Cyrus caught the motion with his eyes, a red stunner was flying his way. Moving on instinct pounded into his muscles and subconscious from the hellish Weapons and Battle classes he'd been scraping by in, he jumped to the side and rolled behind the sofa. He had both wands in his hands before he even consciously thought to draw them. Opening his awareness as they'd been learning how to do in Wandless Magic class, he felt for oncoming spells even as he pointed both wands over the sofa and cast blindly. Hearing Remus jump to the left to dodge, he stuck his head over the couch and started casting multiple spells at once, with both wands, something he'd been practicing for the last week since he'd gotten his phoenix feather back. He wasn't that good at it yet, but he knew enough paired castings to have Remus cussing like a sailor from behind his breaking shield.

When it looked like Remus was going to retaliate, Cyrus was already casting a shield with his right and stunners and non life-threatening Dark spells with his left. He didn't know how long the duel went on for, but most of the living room was destroyed before Cyrus finally managed to surprise Remus with a wandless restriction spell as he pretended to cast something else with his wand. The werewolf hit the ground with growl, wand flying out of his hand from the disarming spell Cyrus had cast at him next. Casting a few more restraining and rope spells, he was finally satisfied with Remus's surrender.

Still standing a food distance away, not wanting to chance Remus's werewolf side at that moment, Cyrus called, "Do you yield?"

Remus started laughing, making Cyrus concerned for his sanity.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, summoning Remus's wand to him with a flick of his wand. He kept himself at the ready in case the werewolf pulled something tricky.

The werewolf was still laughing, the yellow glow of his eyes eerie in the dim lighting. "Did you really think you beat a fully trained adult, Cyrus?"

Green eyes widened in shock as his spells were broken easily with a backup wand and Remus was _on_ him, arms hitting his wands out of his hands like steal bars. He heard a _crack_ and then he was on the floor, bound, and in pain from the ropes holding his arms tightly to his sides. Hissing at the pain, he stared up past the wand inches from his face into angry golden eyes.

"I am _not_ bringing you along, Cyrus. You will remain here as I fetch Snape."

Cyrus barely had time to put a tracking spell on him before he disapparated with an angry _crack_. Swearing under his breath, he removed the ropes with wandless magic and started healing his broken arm, having to shift it back into alignment after Remus's spell had nearly made the bone pierce through his skin.

It took him a few moments to heal the damage, but after he finished, he flexed his hand carefully and squeezed his arm experimentally. When there was no lingering pain, he summoned his wands from where they had fallen and jabbed them back into their respective holsters. Feet slamming against the floor, he stomped up to his room to get out his battle gear.

He wasn't going to let Remus foolishly run into a hostile situation without backup.

He ran over mission preparation 101 in his mind as he changed out of his leisure clothes and into his basilisk armour. Welkins had been pounding tactics into their heads for months, now. Prepare for shit, cuz the shit always hits the fan. Always bring healing potions, poisons, weapons, portkeys to be taken by the enemy, backup portkeys, _backup_ backup portkeys, someone who knows where the hell you are in case they need to go searching for your carcass… the list went on, and as he hadn't learned how to make a portkey yet (they were supposed to learn it soon, but obviously not soon enough for Cyrus), he had to forgo that safety precaution.

He was really glad now that he had packed everything he might need _just in case_.

Like Welkins always said. Shit that _can_ fly, _will _fly.

It took him ten minutes to change into his basilisk armour and secret away all his blades and potions. It took him another two minutes to cast every single spell he knew to hide him from eyes, ears, and snouts. He knew, though, that if he wasn't careful snapping twigs could still give away his location. He'd learned that the hard way during one of Welkin's drills of 'capture the flag', or in this case, 'capture the student'. So far Cyrus had been lucky enough to avoid that honour. He didn't like the idea of being knocked unconscious and dragged around like rag doll.

He apparated, following the tracking spell he'd cast on Remus before the werewolf's half-crazed escape.

_oOo_

Cyrus swore viciously in his mind as he snapped another twig. This was getting ridiculous. He was going to be discovered by werewolves long before he arrived at the camp. Examining the ground even more carefully, he tried to follow Remus trail through the woods. Intellectually he knew that Remus was worried about his mate, but did he really have to move so bloody _fast?_ On the bright side, Remus didn't know he was being followed because he was too far ahead to hear all the noise Cyrus was making.

Biting his lip to hold back more complaints, he nearly sighed with relief when he caught sight of bodies through the brush. _Finally_. Moving off the path, he carefully maneuvered himself into a good position to spy from.

Damn if he was going to break another twig and fuck up the whole rescue operation.

Cyrus carefully started picking his way through the brush, recasting his silencing charm as a precaution. He could hear Snape's snarky voice coming from the right, so he headed in that direction. He caught sight of Remus pummeling a werewolf into the ground and proceeded to ignore him. Remus could take care of himself. Cyrus was there to free Snape, so they could all go on their merry way and get the fuck out of there.

"Ah ah. Careful Lupin. You get within ten feet of him and they'll cut off his head. No vampire can survive _that_. You're going to keep fighting challengers until you are defeated, or your authority as beta is cemented."

At this time Cyrus had caught sight of Snape, who was chained to a boulder buried deep into the ground. He frowned. What kind of chains could keep Snape restrained? Activating his rune sight with a blink, he 'zoomed in' on the shackles to check for magic. His eyebrows climbed. Where the _hell_ had Fenrir gotten that spellwork done? It was obviously custom-made and designed. Each spell and sub-spell had been woven almost artfully together, all of them keeping Snape restrained, slightly docile, unable to feel hunger, and unable to draw on a single drop of magic.

All which spoke of careful planning – something Fenrir didn't seem capable of. So, if Fenrir hadn't thought up this ingenious plan, who the fuck had?

"Why did you kidnap my mate?" Cyrus heard Remus growl as he tuned back into the conversation.

"You know why, Remus. He was the easiest way to get you back here. You _are_ the beta of this pack until someone defeats or kills you." A wheezing laugh. "Now, onto your next challenger. Redmoon here's been itching to take a piece out of you for weeks."

Cyrus stuck his head around a tree trunk to get a better look at the werewolf that stepped forward with a manic grin on his face. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he saw the wolf change his hands into claws. He'd seen werewolves at Shikaan transform multiple body parts during all phases of the moon, but he'd never seen Remus do it. This could get ugly.

Cyrus looked at Remus, then at Snape. He could break the spells on the chains easily enough, if he found the right sequence he could make the whole thing collapse. If he didn't get the right one, someone might notice his tampering before Snape could break free. Reactivating his rune sight, he started delving into the enchantment with a critical eye.

It was difficult to concentrate on the spells when he could hear Remus kicking ass and getting his own ass beat. He was probably exhausted. Most of the time he couldn't tell who hit who, but the occasional unfamiliar grunts had his hopes rising. And every time he heard Remus hiss or grunt in pain, every muscle in his bodied tightened and demanded he _do something_. He had to continuously remind himself of his mission.

Once Snape was free, the pack was fair game.

There had been a couple of Dark curses he'd been wanting to try out, but hadn't been able to find a guinea pig for. He consoled himself with images of Redmoon's thighs being flayed into strings of beef as he began dismantling the spell.

He hit a snag halfway through destroying the main command sequence, but was quick to recover. He knew the exact moment his patience had paid off, as metal cracked and a jugular was severed to spray blood in a parody of a water fountain all across Snape's tattered robes.

Letting his rune sight fall away, normal light came back into focus in red. The werewolves were running about, trying to restrain Snape and getting batted away like flies. Snape was _pissed_, but even Cyrus could see he was tired and beginning to weaken as a werewolf got in a lucky shot and brought him to his knees. Before anyone knew what was happening, Cyrus had released a salvo of Dark curses, manipulating their paths as they flew to hit the dodging Weres. Screams and howls ripped through the air as Cyrus cast spell after spell with his death stick, the sheer power of the wand quickly overwhelming the shields of the few wizards and witches among the werewolves who had been smart enough to draw their wands. His position was quickly discovered, however, so he escaped the trees and brush that could give away his position and got onto open ground, casting curses the entire time.

A glance to the left showed that Remus was still fighting Redmoon. Cyrus quickly turned his attention back to the mob of werewolves charing in his direction and conjured a wall of silver needles, sending them wave by wave into the masses. There were so bloody _many…_

An arm smacked into his back and sent him tumbling forward, swearing under his breath as his position was given away.

"He's over here! Kill him! Kill hi-"

He gutted the werewolf, cutting off the voice with a gurgled moan. The body hit the ground with a thump and a mess of blood and intestines, and Cyrus tore his eyes away from the sight just in time to see the mob nearly upon him. Apparating silently, he moved to the edge of the clearing away from the crowd and started casting more spells from afar. A quick glance at Remus showed him using martial arts training to overtake his adversary, as the other Were apparently had no experience other than to hit hard and fast. When Remus finally had Redmoon on the ground, Cyrus moved quickly through the confused werewolves in search of Snape. Remus was holding up, but he was worried for the vampire. He probably hadn't eaten in _days._

Dodging around silver-spike laden bodies, he nearly cursed as he saw most of them pulling out the weapons and beginning to heal. Apparently he had to go for the kill. The fuckers were like cockroaches. No matter how much metal he put in them, they just didn't die. Using progressively darker and darker curses, he started knocking bodies down with sprays of blood and screams of pain as flesh was shredded and burned. The scent of death filled his nostrils as he made his way towards Snape, who was being held to the ground and cut up with claws.

The werewolf on his back didn't know what hit him. One moment he was torturing his victim, and the next his bones had melted under his skin and he fell to the side with a howl of agony. Helping Snape to his feet, Cyrus tried to lead him away from the battle, casting spells left and right as he was forced to sheath his phoenix wand to hold Snape's arm over his shoulder.

It was stupid of him to forget to cast an invisibility charm on Snape. Perhaps it was his lack of battle experience, but his inattention cost him.

A fist landed on his spine, sending him careening forward and into the ground. Hearing something crack, and a peculiar tingle race down his legs, his eyes widened in realization. He'd been hit hard enough to cause _nerve_ damage. Rolling over quickly, he barely managed to avoid the foot that planted itself exactly where his ass had just been. He caught sight of yellow eyes and a sickly smile before he apparated again, this time into the woods a distance away where he could fix his back, swearing under his breath as he was forced to leave Snape behind. Slipping into a healing trance, he examined this wound with his senses and quickly sent his magic to work, healing the fractures in his spine and maneuvering the disks back into alignment.

It hurt like a bitch, but the tingles slowly faded as he repaired the nearly severed nerve.

That had been a close call. If Fenrir had punched him any harder, he'd be paralyzed and probably dead on the ground a minute ago.

Apparating back into the battle, he grimaced at the sight of Remus and Snape both on their knees in front of Fenrir. The expression on the Alpha's face could only be described as glee.

"-ver liked you, Lupin. You never fit into this pack, did you? Always trying so hard to mingle with the _humans_. What made you choose _them_, Lupin, over your own pack?"

Remus spat blood onto the ground, and Cyrus could see blood trickling from his healing split lip.

"You're a barbaric _monster_, Greyback, who happily indulges in biting and raping children for your own amusement. Why the hell would I ever willingly join a bastard like you?"

Fenrir's lips drew back in a snarl, and Cyrus was already formulating a plan to try and get them out of this mess. "Do you think your little invisible friend will save you, Lupin? I heard his bones break. He's not going to help you now, wherever he ran off to." He raised his clawed hand and flexed it, muscles and tendons showing under the pale and hairy skin. Cyrus wondered if he chose to never completely change back into a human on purpose. "I had high hopes for you, Lupin. Though I shouldn't be surprised you fell through again." When he raised his clawed hand to deal the deathblow, Cyrus was already sneaking forward. Crouched on the ground, all of his subterfuge spells still active, he hovered both hands over the back of Fenrir's thighs and _cut_ with his magic. Before the werewolf could react, Cyrus was kicking his legs out from under him and he fell to the ground. Before he hit the dirt, Remus had a clawed hand buried wrist-deep in his chest.

Silence.

Cyrus kept his eyes wide open, ready for attack, but Remus seemed entirely unconcerned as he pulled Fenrir's heart out of his chest and held it in the air.

"Your Alpha is dead. What will you do now, Pack of the Waning Moon?"

Cyrus watched in complete astonishment as one by one, the werewolves in question got down on their knees and bared their throat to Remus. A quick glance to Snape showed the vampire watching the proceedings with amusement in spite of his multiple wounds, not the least bit confused as to what the _hell_ had just happened.

"Who will you appoint as beta?" a daring Were asked from the crowd.

Remus frowned, deep in thought. Cyrus wondered if he'd be able to hold up under the pressure of Alpha. "Blacktide. She will be beta until a… ranking night is set. For now, I want you all to go home and meet back here tomorrow night. We'll… figure everything out then." He turned to Snape and pulled the vampire to his feet. He ran a caring, bloody hand over the hard features for a moment before seeming to remember where they were.

"C- My invisible friend, meet us ba- at you-know-where." With that said, Remus and Snape disapparated with a crack.

Cyrus was quick to follow, not wanting to stare at the blood pool of blood soaking into the ground under Greyback's corpse.

_oOo_

"You IDIOT! What were you thinking you foolish mortal?! Were you trying to get yourself KILLED?!"

Cyrus glared at the raging vampire as he poured himself a glass of milk. He was tired, cranky, and had nearly been killed ten minutes earlier. He was in _no_ mood to fight off Snape as well.

"I did what I had to, you overgrown bat! And stop complaining, because if it hadn't been for me dismantling those chains, you'd still be tied to that bloody rock! And probably DEAD to boot!" He took an angry gulp of milk and started fixing himself a snack. He was _hungry_.

"That is no excuse for your idiocy! If-"

"Just stop right there! I am a Shikaan student, not a bloody invalid. I may not be as experienced as _you_, but I sure as hell wasn't going to sit here and hope both my guardians survived the night in one piece!"

Snape frowned and turned to Remus, who was sitting quietly at the table and staring at his hands. He'd cleaned them with charms and soapy water, but didn't seem to believe they were quite clean yet. "You let a Shikaan _freshman_ follow you into that disaster?"

Remus sent the agitated vampire an annoyed look. "I did no such thing. He must have followed me after I apparated." Here he focused on Cyrus, his eyes flashing with agitation before they softened slightly. "He _was_ invaluable, though, Severus. I…" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure if we would have survived the night if it wasn't for his disobedience."

Snape looked completely taken aback. "You're _defending_ him?"

The werewolf raised an eyebrow. "This isn't about who takes whose side, Severus, this is about complicated circumstances and an unusual solution. You may not want to admit this, but he's extremely adept for someone who has only been in Shikaan for four months. I may not have wanted him to come, but he saved both our lives just now!" Snape's thin lips twitched, and Remus seemed to read something more in the vampire's expression than Cyrus could, because his eyes widened before narrowing. "You can't possibly be jealous, Severus!"

The vampire's eyes narrowed to slits as he hissed. "I am no such thing!"

Now Remus looked _amused_. "Of course you're not. My mistake. You're angry because Cyrus saved our lives, not because of your _own_ short comings."

Cyrus winced as Snape's expression turned glacial.

"How _did_ they manage to capture you, Snape? You're a Death Eater. You went to Shikaan for a full year before dropping out and returning to Hogwarts. You know more Dark spells than anyone I've ever met, and you've got the strength and senses of a _vampire_. How did they get their hands on you?"

Snape crossed his arms in agitation and moved to stand by the window and glare venomously at his own reflection. "They… they poisoned my food supply." Cyrus watched as Remus's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. "I was leaving the apothecary in Knockturn Alley when I caught sight of a whore disappearing into one of the alleys. I hadn't eaten in three days, as I was locked up in Voldemort's dungeons brewing potions for his army. The wolves took advantage of this… She was a ploy the entire time. They hoped that I would see her as an easy target and take a pint, so they drugged her with an herb that's debilitating to vampires and bribed her to follow their plan. I didn't wake up for a day, and when I did they had those chains on me…" Absently, Snape began to rub his wrists. "I've never experienced such a complete repression of my vampiric and magical abilities before…"

Remus stood from the table and went over to Snape, wrapping his arms around the vampire's waist and burrowing his face into Snape's lanky and dirty hair. Cyrus tried _not_ to think of the oil and potions fumes that must be stinking it up something nasty and failed miserably. Remus didn't seem to mind at all.

"I'm sorry, Severus."

Cyrus snuck out of the room to leave them alone, taking his snack with him. He hoped the reaming was done for one day.

_oOo_

Christmas day was uneventful in comparison to its eve, but it was a pleasant change of pace. Cyrus let himself sleep in until 9, having cast a silencing charm the night before _just in case_. He didn't want to think about it.

When he stumbled down the stairs that morning, a yawn making his jack crack uncomfortably, the sight of a tree decorated the wizard-style and the many presents underneath had him freezing on the last few steps. He stared into the living room in confusion, wondering where the hell so many presents had come from. The tree he could understand. Remus was probably capable of decorating a tree in minutes with his wand, but the presents? They were quite… numerous. And unexpected. And it made Cyrus uncomfortable, as he was now unsure whether the gifts he had bought during the past couple weeks were adequate.

"Good morning, Cyrus," Remus greeted cheerfully from where he sat in front of the fire, a steaming cup of cocoa in hand and an open bottle of fire whisky on the table. 'He probably spiked his drink,' Cyrus thought absently to himself as he went down the last couple stairs.

"Morning, Remus." He glanced around. "Where's Snape?"

Remus looked amused. "He's downstairs in the cellar, brewing. After you didn't wake up at 6, like usual, we chose to entertain ourselves until you decided to get out of bed." He smiled. "You did seem rather tired, yesterday. I hope there were no lasting injuries?"

Cyrus shook his head. "No. I healed the worst of the damage when I strategically retreated. Fenrir managed to crack a few disks in my spinal column." He sat across from the werewolf, basking in the warmth of the fire as he poured himself a cup of cocoa from the steaming pot and poured in some fire whisky. Remus didn't stop him from so obviously drinking, but he might have been more occupied with his concern.

"He nearly broke your spine?! Why didn't you tell us yesterday?"

Cyrus shrugged. "You were busy. It's been a rough week. The damage was taken care of, so I didn't think it was urgent or anything. You and Snape needed… time alone."

Remus's face turned slightly red at that, and Cyrus pretended not to notice as he sipped his spiked cocoa.

"When's Snape coming up?"

"Now, Mr. Obsidian."

Cyrus's lips twitched in amusement at the address. "Really, Snape, you'd think you could call me Cyrus. I haven't been your student for a couple months now."

The vampire looked slightly pained, but eventually nodded his head. "Very well. You may call me… Severus, if you wish."

Cyrus nodded, testing the name in his mind. It would be hard to adjust to. Severus sounded too silky for the vampire's abrasive and snappish personality. "So, are we going to unravel the gifts now or indulge in breakfast?"

Remus smiled. "Whatever you want, Cyrus. Severus and I have already eaten, and there's some leftover fruit in the fridge if you'd like something to snack on."

Cyrus shrugged. "I'm sure I can throw breakfast together in five minutes if you guys don't mind waiting." The two adults shook their heads, so Cyrus headed into the kitchen. "I'll have to go get your presents from upstairs, too, before we start," he called behind him as got out a pan and started frying some eggs and toasting some bread.

After his empty stomach was filled and the gifts were retrieved from his duffel, Cyrus let himself sit back down in the plush chair in front of the fire as Severus and Remus argued about which present Cyrus was going to open first. He closed his eyes and relaxed, the pleasant bantering comfortable along with the gentle cracking of the fire. After a minute of debate, a small parcel as big as his hand was placed in front of him. Raising an eyebrow at the two faces, both with varying degrees of (visual) enthusiasm, he read the address on the top of the parcel and blinked. This one was from Sna- er, Severus. Carefully unwrapping the paper, he took his time unveiling the gift and ended up staring in incomprehension as he pulled off the lid and saw a stylishly simple chain bracelet sitting on black velvet. He looked up at the vampire with an enquiring look.

Severus's lips twitched, and Cyrus could see a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. Or maybe it was just the light of the fire. "It's a potions bracelet, Ob- Cyrus. Each gemmed chain link has a variation of the bottomless spell on it. As you may notice, it would be easy for a standard-sized vial to be slid into the opening. After you do this, a stone appears to seal the vial inside. When you wish to use the potion, simply press on the stone and it will eject."

Cyrus was now staring in shock. "Th-thank you! This is so… so cool." He grinned. "Now I won't have to carry my potions inside my boot!"

Remus chuckled softly and held out another gift. "Here. This one's from me."

Cyrus took it with a grin as he wandlessly maneuvered the bracelet around his wrist and clasped shut. Less careful with this one, he ripped off the packaging of what was obviously a book and stared in shock at the title underneath. Remus had managed to find a runes text on ancient _Egyptian_ wards and curses. Grinning broadly, he couldn't help but give the werewolf a heart-felt hug.

"Now I want you two to open your gifts!" He grabbed the two haphazardly packaged presents from the coffee table and shoved them at his guardians.

Remus was the first to open his, his lips quirked slightly as it, too, was obviously a book. When he pulled off the wrapping, however, his amused smile was replaced by a look of shock as he saw the title.

"I wasn't sure what exactly you knew about werewolves, because the textbooks from Hogwarts's DADA class were grossly inaccurate compared what I found at Shikaan, so I figured this book might be of some use to you. I don't know why some werewolves don't seem to suffer the full moon as you do, but I was hoping you might be able to glean something from this book. Xanthir suggested it to me."

As Remus was now reading the contents page in fascination, Severus was the first to speak. "Who is Xanthir?"

Cyrus grinned. "He's one of my friends at Shikaan. We met when he asked me to help him with his Runes homework. He's a great guy. Really energetic."

Severus looked amused. "Werewolf?"

Cyrus looked sheepish. "Er, yeah. Sorry, didn't I say that?"

"No."

The human shrugged. "Oops. Now, open your gift, Sn- Severus."

The vampire raised an eyebrow and slit the paper with letter opener. Typical Snape. Cyrus stared as the paper was pulled off easily, revealing a box. Lifting the latch on the lid, he opened the wooden case and stared down at the contents inside.

"I, er, figured you couldn't be unhappy with potions stuff, so I decided to go with that instead of being adventurous." He grinned. "The shopkeeper said it would keep for a few months before going bad. Something about not being able to put stasis charms on them?" He shrugged. "I'm not that well-versed at potions, so I just asked for whatever he had that was rarest. I figured shopping in the Other Realm would get me something that you wouldn't be able to easily get your hands on." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "It's good, right? I wasn't duped? Because they cost a lot of-"

"Cyrus." The human stopped blathering and looked into Severus's amused black eyes. "Thank you. They are a wonderful present."

Remus was grinning. "Oh, he admitted he liked them. You must have done well, Cyrus."

The human perked up even more. "Really?"

Remus took a glance inside. "I don't even recognize what they are. That gets you points.

Cyrus grinned. It was panning out to be a wonderful Christmas.

_oOo_

When Cyrus returned to Shikaan a week later to rejoin the student population, it was with a light heart and a clear head. The time off had done wonders to rest his taxed mind, even though he had studied and trained during his free time, and now he was ready for the rest of his grueling school year.

He was whistling 'White Christmas' softly to himself as he apparated into his room, and was therefore understandably surprised when a throat cleared. He dropped his duffel and whipped around, wands raised in startled surprise at the intruder. None other that _Yankovich_ was sitting at his measly table, legs crossed and a decidedly odd expression on his face. Just as Cyrus was about to ask what the hell the demon was doing in his room, the teacher spoke.

"I need the assistance of Harry Potter."


	12. Chapter Twelve: Marianna

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

**WARNING:** THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS _**SEXUAL CONTENT**_THAT IS DESERVING OF IT'S RATING: M for MATURE. There is no skin, however, so this is NOT NC-17, so please do not be mean and report me when I don't deserve it. Thank you.

_oOo_

Chapter Twelve:

_oOo_

Cyrus stared at Yankovich in shock, for a moment uncomprehending of what the demon had just said. Finally, he managed to choke out, "W-what?"

Yankovich flexed his wings, an annoyed look on his face. "You didn't honestly think that I wouldn't hear about a dead basilisk being raised at that Pigwarts school, would you? Coinciding with the time you were missing? It didn't take much thought to connect the dots for someone who has experienced your explosions of death magic first hand." He raised an eyebrow.

Cyrus found his face slowly flushing red under the scrutiny of his teacher. Nervously, he put his duffel down on his bed and sat down next to it. "Are you going to… to tell anyone?"

The demon gave him a weird look. "Why the hell would I do that? If you're running from the stupid human wizards, it's no concern of mine."

Cyrus frowned. "Oookay… thanks, but… why would you need, er, Harry Potter's help?"

Annoyance flashed through sapphire eyes. "Because you're familiar with Voldemort, correct? That human that's causing a ruckus in Britain?"

"Well, yeees… Somewhat."

"I need information."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "What do you need to know?"

"Everything. His history, his followers, how he operates… Anything you can think of, I need to know. Now."

The human frowned. "But… why? I mean, Voldemort has never been of any interest to anyone in this dimension before, why would that change now? Do you have a bone to pick with him or something?"

Yankovich's eyes had nearly turned black with anger. "Or something. Now, spill. I don't have all night, and you have classes tomorrow."

"Alright… Well, Voldemort's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was a student at Hogwarts… Um, his followers are called Death Eaters, and there's the Inner Circle and then the… cannon fodder. I know some of the people in the Inner Circle, but not all of them."

"Write me a list," Yankovich commanded, conjuring a pencil and paper. Cyrus obeyed, having to get up to take the conjured items and to use the table to write on. When he got to the end of the list, he paused before deciding not to write Severus's name. He pushed the list over to Yankovich, but the demon was staring at _him_ instead of _it_. "You're hiding something."

Cyrus blinked in what he hoped was polite confusion. "No, I'm not."

The next thing he knew he was slammed against the bookshelf, his head hitting one of the shelves with a crack. His vision spun for a few seconds before he could focus on the demon's face, inches from his own.

"I'm not in the mood for games, Obsidian. I am tired, frustrated, and very _anxious_ to leave this room with _my information._" He slammed Cyrus against the bookshelf again for good measure, and the human swore he could see stars. A quick check for damage revealed his skull had fractured. He sent healing magic to take care of it. "I have no time for your stupid little secrets, you puny, irritating human. _You will give me what I want_." His voice growled at the end, and Cyrus could feel the powerful death magic stirring in the air. The heat poured around him and under his skin, swirling pleasantly in his magic-sensitive channels. To his horror, the pleasure elicited a stirring in his lower regions.

Cyrus stared in burning sapphire eyes. "O-okay," he managed to gasp out as his pants tightened around him uncomfortably. "Alright, I'll tell you." When Yankovich seemed disinclined to put him down, he continued hastily. "My guardian is in the Inner Circle," Cyrus began, biting his lip nervously. "He u-used to spy for Dumbledore, the leader of the 'Light', but he's a manipulative fuck. Snape quit this summer, after… well, there was an incident. He's trapped with Voldemort, though, until he can get the Dark Mark on his arm removed."

"Severus Snape?" Yankovich asked, slowly putting Cyrus back on the ground much to the human's relief. The magic in the air slowly began to retreat, but unfortunately Cyrus's 'problem' wasn't so agreeable. He tried not to shift too obviously.

"Snape… I remember his face. He came with you when you were in those… shackles." He stared at Cyrus for a moment, and the human felt his muscles tense. He watched Yankovich nervously, not bothering to keep the concern and worry off of his face. "I'll endeavor not to kill him."

Cyrus sighed shakily in relief. "Thank you."

"If your… guardian, is in the Inner Circle and used to spy for this Dumbledore, would he be willing to share information?"

Cyrus nodded slowly. "Probably."

"How can I get in contact with him?"

"By owl."

The demon scowled. "The laughable wizarding excuse for post is not fast enough. I need to speak with him _immediately_."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oookay, um… Well, I'll see if he's at home."

"I will come with you."

The human stared at him incredulously. Yankovich couldn't seriously be _that_ impatient. "It will only take a moment to see if he is there, Professor, and besides – the wards on his house gut anyone who enters without being keyed in and hang them by their intestine at the edge of the property."

The demon crossed his arms, one of his hands tapping fingers rhythmically. "Very well. Get going."

Without another word he apparated straight to Spinner's End.

When he appeared in the living room, both Remus and Severus looked surprised to see him.

"Harry!" Remus greeted, puzzled as he put down his book. "Is something wrong? You only left half an hour ago."

Cyrus laughed nervously. "Well, actually, one of my teachers he…" He was waiting for me in my room, and if that isn't creepy enough, he _knows I'm Harry Potter_. "He needs to speak to Sn- Severus." He glanced around the room nervously. "Erm, now."

The vampire raised an eyebrow as he stood. "This is important?" Cyrus nodded. "Very well. Side along," he said, placing his hand on Cyrus's shoulder. They disappeared, leaving a very worried-looking Remus behind.

They reappeared in Cyrus's room, and Yankovich was now sitting somewhat calmly at Cyrus's table. Severus raised a sardonic eyebrow and crossed his arms. "And what is a teacher doing in the room of my charge? Is this considered appropriate behaviour at Shikaan?"

Yankovich's eyes flashed with annoyance, and Cyrus could feel the death magic tickle his senses. '_Not again._'

"No, it's not. This is an emergency, however. Mr. Obsidian has told me that you have some information I need. If you'd follow me to my office?" He stood from the small student table and motioned to the door.

Severus gave Cyrus a _look_ and the human twitched. He could tell that Severus would be back to 'discuss this later' with him.

"Nice touch with the entrails on your wards. Quite the attention for detail," Cyrus heard Yankovich comment as they walked out his door. He caught sight of Severus's smirk before the door closed behind him.

Merlin.

_oOo_

He woke up the next morning to the floor kissing his face. Groaning, he rolled over and stared up as his mattress landed back on the bed frame. It must have been lifted to roll him out of bed, if the sheets wrapping him up like a mummy were any indication.

Tara walked around to his side of the bed and stared down at him, arms crossed.

Cyrus glared. "What the hell do you want?"

She raised a sardonic eyebrow. "A feeding, of course."

Cyrus grumbled under his breath as he tried to untangle himself. It took him a few moments, but he finally managed. "Can I get dressed first?" he asked irritably, as he was clad only in boxers.

"No. I have other things to do today, and I've waited long enough. Just sit on the edge of the bed and take a blood replenisher afterwards."

With a glare, he sat down. He'd been buying blood replenshers en masse since she started feeding once a week from him. She never took enough for him to get dizzy, but he always felt a little weak for a couple days afterwards, and at Shikaan that wasn't a smart way to go, so: potions.

While he had been lost in thought, Tara had positioned herself and was already sinking her petite fangs into his neck. He sighed as the pain disappeared under the vague, pleasurable haze. It probably didn't help that he was having the usual… morning 'problem'. Oh well. Vampires were very open sexual creatures, so it would be no surprise if Tara had noticed his erection and just chose not to comment.

Letting his thoughts wander, he thought about Yankovich's vendetta. For what possible reason could the demon want to attack Voldemort? Yankovich didn't seem like the type to care about the wizarding world's problems, so it was likely that it had nothing to do with Dumbledore's 'greater good'. If he were to look at it realistically, it was probably more… _personal_ than 'saving the world'.

As Tara pulled back and healed the bite, Cyrus pressed one of the jewels on his bracelet and a blood replenishing potion ejected itself. He'd discovered that he could actually fit about 10 vials in each 'jewel', and as each stone was a different colour, it would be easier for him to keep track of which potion was where.

The vampire spared a look at his bracelet. "That's useful. Where'd you get it?"

"Christmas present from my guardian. He's a potions master."

She nodded. "I'd stick around, but I have a lot of shit to do today."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Usually you aren't this busy."

She scowled. "Well, I'm working on what you could consider my post-Shikaan education. It's not an apprenticeship, technically, because I'm studying specific subjects from more than one teacher. For some reason, all three of them decided that I needed more assignments right after Christmas, as if I didn't _have enough_."

Cyrus winced. "Ouch. Well, good luck with that."

Tara snorted. "Thanks." They stood staring at each other for a few moments before she raised an eyebrow. "You going to stand around in your boxers forever, or get dressed?"

The human scowled and stalked over to his trunk, which Tara had put back at the end of his bed. He opened it and climbed inside, walking to the dresser that held all of his cloths. While most of the space in the trunk was taken up by the bookshelves, he still stored most of his clothes and other magical items inside. He'd had enough clothes for the summer in his duffel, if he washed them, but he was sick of wearing the same outfits.

When he climbed back out again, Tara was gone, though Cyrus didn't really miss her. Honestly. Who flipped your mattress over in the morning to wake you up? It was totally unnecessary.

He yawned.

Muttering "vampires" under his breath in exasperation, he cast a wandless and silent tempus charm. He had half an hour to feed himself and stretch appropriately before class. Damnit. Apparently he'd managed to sleep through his alarm, and it was probably a good idea Tara had been here to wake him up.

After shoving an apple taken from his cold box in his mouth and throwing all his textbooks and homework into his school bag before his shrunk it, he ran off to class.

_oOo_

Weapons and Battle was a bust. Ouragan had them tested on their forms, and while Cyrus wasn't horrible, he wasn't amazing by any means either. He'd sparred with both Remus and Snape during the rest of the holidays – in between Remus's own lessons from Snape on 'how-to-keep-yourself-alive-leading-a-pack-of-wolves' – and it had helped him get used to using the forms in actual fight scenarios, but he was still unable to reach the level of grace and fluidity that most of the nonhumans had managed with relative ease.

It was really beginning to hit him how futile it was to try to take on a werewolf or vampire physically, and this pissed him off. How was he supposed to stay alive with these juggernauts running around with their fists that could punch in his skull with a minimum of force? He'd been paying attention to the statistics. Seventy percent of humans that entered Shikaan didn't make the cut. That was a _daunting_ percentage. Some died in accidents, some died in class, some got killed by the nonhumans, and some 'disappeared' mysteriously. Somehow he doubted the mysterious disappearances were from the students running away. Kyranes had said that half the students in the first year wouldn't be there by graduation, but he hadn't realized how much of that fifty percent was made up of _humans_.

He wanted to punch something. Preferably something that wouldn't punch back. Or make his fist shatter into many shards of bone and cartilage. But apparently he wasn't getting anything he wanted today.

Runes class was a bit better. Rivehn had decided _not_ to give them a surprise test, and instead told them that they would be having one on Friday that could be considered a 'review' of most of the things they'd learned so far. The vampire wanted to make sure that they had a firm grasp of the current material before they switched gears and started moving into more complicated spells, like how transfiguration worked on a runic level. Cyrus was excited and daunted at the same time. He'd finished reviewing all of Xanthir's notes from first year, and the notes from the first two months of this year's classes, so he was as caught up as he could be without having actually _been _there himself, but he still wasn't completely confident in his abilities in the class. Sure, he could sometimes see the 'simple' answer to a problem the rest of the class had difficulties with, but his vocabulary needed a lot of work. It was simply impossible to stuff ten months of words into his head in four months. Rivehn had them memorizing _lists_ of runes he wanted them to know for _each class_.

It both drove him insane and made his blood pump faster at the thought of the challenge.

He ate lunch with Xanthir and Yalmireth – Tara mysteriously missing, probably due to her workload – before going to Necromancy with a lift in his step. Yankovich hadn't set their private lessons yet, but he was hoping they would be soon. He was already far enough behind in class, and he wanted to catch up as soon as possible.

It was perhaps his school-oriented state of mind that made him forget the past evening's events, so he was understandably shocked when he got to class to find the door locked and all the students waiting outside in confusion. Yankovich never locked the door.

What was going- Oh. It clicked. Yankovich had _ditched class_ because he was hunting down information on _Voldemort?_ He waited around, incredulously, with the rest of the students for fifteen minutes after the start of class. Some left a bit earlier than that, but most waited until the traditional fifteen minute mark that meant 'your teacher is sooo not coming to work today, so you might as well go do homework.'

He frowned as he made his way to the library, planning to brush up on his Runes vocabulary before Animagus class.

Where the hell had Yankovich run off to?

_oOo_

The demon missed Wednesday's class, too. But it wasn't until Friday evening rolled around with still no sign of Yankovich that Cyrus had the _last_ person he'd expect asking _him_ if he knew where the demon was.

"I know from discussions in the teacher's lounge that Yankovich had decided to give you extra lessons to help you cover lost ground in Necromancy class. Have you seen him recently?" Rivehn asked from where he'd ambushed Cyrus outside the library.

Cyrus blinked up at the vampire in confusion. "Um, no, I haven't. We uh, haven't started the lessons yet. He was too busy before Christmas to fit me into his schedule, and now I haven't seen him since Sunday night."

Violet eyes narrowed. "You saw him Sunday night? Why would he be visiting a student on a weekend?"

Cyrus bit his lip. "I… well, I don't know exactly. He wouldn't tell me why. He wanted information on a Dark Lord in the wizarding world, so I hooked him up with a source. I haven't seen him since that night. I hadn't thought that… that he'd be skipping his classes."

The vampire crossed his arms over his chest and looked decidedly unimpressed. "It is not unusual for Yankovich to skip a few classes in the pursuit of a necromancy project, but he's never missed this many without at least telling Kyranes about it." By the end of it, Rivehn was muttering more to himself in annoyance than speaking to Cyrus. The human didn't catch any more of it, as Rivehn had defaulted to another language. The sound of it was harsh, and well-suited to Rivehn's apparent ire over the situation. He didn't quite understand Rivehn and Yankovich's 'friendship'. Sometimes they got along fine, but other times they were so irritable and spiteful towards each other that their spats resulted in property damage.

Cyrus was about to ask if he was dismissed when an angry and familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

"OBSIDIAN!"

The human blanked as he turned around to see the topic of conversation stalking towards him with a mighty scowl on his face.

"Um, Professor?"

He had Cyrus up against the wall again by his throat, and the human groaned as his head cracked into the stone. Seeing spots, he started sending healing magic to the back of his head. How many times was his skull going to be cracked open this week?

Before Yankovich could start reaming into him, Rivehn had placed a one hand on Yankovich's wrist and the other on the demon's shoulder.

"Yankovich, what the _hell_ are you doing attacking a student in the middle of the hallway?" the vampire hissed, violet eyes glowing with anger and magic. Cyrus found himself swamped between the two colliding magics, as Yankovich was even more riled up than the vampire. "You will put him down this instant, and we will take this to my office. You will tell me _exactly_ where you've been this past week, or I will snap your wings and break your tail in seven places."

Cyrus, struggling to keep his eyes open and his brain not quite so fuzzy from the magic in the air, watched as the demon's face twisted in fury for a moment before the hand released his neck. Cyrus slumped to the floor with a grateful _thump_ and didn't bother to pick himself up.

"Now, can you stay in control of yourself for five minutes while we walk to my office, or do I have to shadow walk us there?"

Cyrus couldn't see their expressions from his place on the ground.

"Shadows. Now."

Rivehn made an annoyed hiss. He put his hand on Cyrus's head, as it was the closest thing in reach, and the world disappeared into shadow around them. The human felt an odd 'falling' sensation before the ride came to a stop and the world righted itself again. When he opened his eyes, they were in Rivehn's office.

The vampire removed his hand from Cyrus's head and began to ignore him. Cyrus took advantage of this and began to shimmy backwards towards the wall. "Now. You will tell me exactly where you've been for the past five days, and _why_ you have been skipping all your classes without informing Kyranes. She's quite pissed off at you." Violet eyes narrowed. "She's threatened that if you aren't back in class on Monday she's going to sign you up for a series of workshops at all the universities connected in any way to Shikaan."

The demon shuddered and made a disgusted face, some of the anger disappearing from his face momentarily. "I'll be back in class," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Rivehn.

The vampire stared at him, his normally blank expression broken by the thinned lips turned slightly downwards and the narrowing of his eyes. "Good. Now, where have you been?"

Yankovich glared. "It's none of your fucking business."

The tension in the room increased exponentially as Rivehn began to glow angry violet. "You made it my business when you completely lost control of yourself," he snapped out, his voice lashing through air like a whip.

Yankovich's teeth bared as his magic began glowing around him as well. Cyrus, to his horror, found his body reacting to the heavy cloud of magic growing in the air. Tingles of pleasure raced up his limbs, his heart beat as if he's just gone for an hour-long run, and he gasped for a breath he just couldn't seem to catch. Oh god. He barely managed to hold back a moan when the cloud of magic began to peak and seemed to _seep_ into his very pores. Sitting against the wall, he tried to surreptitiously adjust himself in his pants. Luckily, the two powerful beings in the room didn't seem to be paying him any more attention.

"You _will_ tell me, Yankovich!"

Anger radiating off the demon like the magic that had his eyes burning blue, he flexed his wings outward and extended claws from his hand. When his voice came out, it was an animalistic _growl_. "_**No**_."

Rivehn slammed him against the wall, and Cyrus could hear a loud _snap _as his wings were bent too far in a direction they were not designed to go. The demon howled in pain before growling and sinking his teeth into the vampire's neck, as Rivehn had pinned Yankovich's arms at his sides. The vampire merely pulled away until Yankovich couldn't reach him with his mouth, and the flow of blood stopped quickly as Rivehn's vampiric healing kicked in. The demon thrashed angrily in his hold, trying to get free without success. Rivehn barely twitched under the force of Yankovich's attacks, holding the demon in place as if he were made of steel.

They were speaking that other language now, gutteral and angry, growling back and forth until Rivehn finally seemed to be fed up with it and pulled Yankovich away from the wall to slam him back against it in anger. Cyrus couldn't see why the marble hadn't cracked yet, but since this was Rivehn's office, he figured the vampire had probably had it reinforced with magic or something.

His ponderings were disrupted when another wave of magic was released, and _this_ one sank into his already open pores and into his channels. He gasped and arched against the wall, fingers clamouring on the smooth marble floor for something to grab a hold of.

If _this_ was what being magic sensitive meant, that every time he was in the presence of strong magic he got aroused, or even _orgasmed_, he was sooo screwed. All he could think about was how to get laid asap.

Gasping for air, he forced his eyes back open to watch the fight between Yankovich and Rivehn. Chills went down his spine and settled in his groin at the sight before him.

Rivehn had pinned Yankovich completely against the wall with his body, one thigh between Yankovich's, and was _kissing_ the demon angrily. Power literally _poured_ off their bodies and into the air. The demon was fighting Rivehn the entire way, trying to yank his face away, but he ended up cutting his lip on sharp fangs. The vampire let out a soft, irritated sound and backhanded Yankovich across the face. Before the demon could take advantage of the half-hold, Rivehn had his hand back on his arm, pinning him. Yankovich growled, flashing sharp canines, but although they were sharp they weren't extended like a vampire's.

Since Cyrus had an almost perfect side view, he could see enough of Rivehn's expression to make out extreme displeasure. The vampire growled something in that foreign language, and Yankovich's expression became positively mutinous. In response, Rivehn smirked and _undulated_ his leg against the demon's crotch. Yankovich went stiff, eyes widening in shock for a moment before he growled and snapped out more angry words. Rivehn laughed, and though his voice was normally a soft tenor, the cadence of it now was nowhere near _soft_. The vampire turned that guttural language into the fucking _sexiest thing_ Cyrus had ever heard as he murmured something into Yankovich's ear and nibbled on the lobe.

The magic around him peaked with sexual tension, tendrils of it writhing on top of Cyrus's skin and underneath. He watched the scene unfolding before him, unable to look away as Rivehn nibbled down Yankovich's neck and Cyrus caught sight of the half-lidded, half-angry look on the demon's face. The anger faded slowly to flushed arousal when Rivehn sank his fangs into the demon's neck. The mouth that was once thin and tense with anger slackened and fell open with a moan. Glowing sapphire eyes widened with the flush of the aphrodisiac that was injected during one of Rivehn's bites that Cyrus was _very_ familiar with before they closed in pleasure. He moaned softly as Rivehn worked at his neck, throat moving as he drank from the demon.

Cyrus watched through heavy-lidded eyes, heat racing through his body as Rivehn undulated his thigh again and Yankovich tensed and moaned, eyes flying open, in what could only be climax. The sight and the choking cloud of magic coming to a pleasurable head sent Cyrus over the edge, and he came in his pants harder than he had when he had been under Rivehn's teeth himself. _Oh god_. He must have groaned out loud, he realized to his own mortification, because Rivehn and Yankovich had paused in their languid, bloody kissing to turn to look at him. His mouth slackened and he found himself getting hard again at the sight of those sated, glowing eyes, and the bloody and bruised lips. Blood rushed to his face in positive _embarrassment_ as the two smirked knowingly.

"So you enjoy power plays, do you, Mr. Obsidian?" Rivehn purred, the blood or orgasm obviously still affecting his logic. The human found himself trying to hide his face with one hand as he vanished the mess in his pants with the other.

Yankovich, who had collapsed bonelessly against the wall and was only standing upright because Rivehn was holding him in place, snorted in amusement. "'Gets turned on by power. He's magic sens'tive, y'know," he slurred slightly, lips curling in sated pleasure as he licked the blood from his lips.

Rivehn turned back to Yankovich with a quirked eyebrow. "Magic sensitive? That is rare." He then proceeded to ignore Cyrus for a while longer as he ravished Yankovich's mouth again.

Cyrus tried to cover his eyes for a moment, but the curiosity and tingling in his groin had him dropping it soon enough. Why was he getting so _turned on?_ Was it just because he was magic sensitive? But the power in the air had faded with their release, and this was only two very powerful men kissing… He turned red. Two very _hot_ and powerful men kissing, he corrected to himself. Oh god. Did this mean he was _attracted to men?_

He looked away from his teachers. Just because his only kisses had been a crying Cho Chang and a nervous Ginny Weasley, and he hadn't felt anything, didn't mean he was _gay_, did it?

He bit his lips as his eyes were dragged magnetically back to Rivehn and Yankovich making out. His nether regions twitched again. He tried thinking of tits and smooth legs. Nothing. He focused back on the vampire and demon. Oh god, he was _so _gay.

Rivehn and Yankovich separated, and the vampire's expression was extremely pleased while Yankovich looked sated and slightly put-off. "Now, are you going to tell me what had you so worked up, earlier?" the vampire drawled, speaking in English again.

Yankovich glared half-heartedly and the vampire moved a hand down to cup his groin. Blue eyes widened and air hissed from between his teeth. "A-alright."

Rivehn's lips curled into a small smirk. "That's better," he purred, pulling his hand away.

The demon relaxed as the contact disappeared. Sapphire eyes glanced at Cyrus, who was still sitting on the floor. "Do I have to tell you while he's here?"

The vampire's lips pulled back slightly in annoyance. "You brought him into this yourself, Yankovich, so he is _obviously_ involved. _Speak._"

"Fine. Do you know of Voldemort, that human Dark Lord that's terrorizing most of Europe?" Yankovich's voice changed into a hissing growl as he continued. "_He kidnapped my niece._"

Rivehn ran a soothing hand up the back of the demon's neck and into his hair, pulling the pliant body away from the wall. With movements faster than Cyrus could see, he had broken Yankovich's wings back into place and healed them with magic as he drew the demon over to a chair in front of his desk and sat him down. The vampire himself leaned against the desk. "Which one?"

"Marianna."

Rivehn's eyebrows rose. "Oh my. Your sister-in-law must be quite angry about that."

Yankovich scowled. "She's quite vicious for a human. She's been taking it out on Vladovich, and my brother's been taking it out on me. Says it's all my fault she got abducted."

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "And is it?"

The demon's expression darkened even more. "Indirectly. Voldemort approached the Necromancer's Guild. He wanted us to support him in his war and raise an army of inferi for his use. When we refused to join sides with him, he offered to _pay_ for our services." Yankovich's fist clenched. "After convening, we told him that we had decided that we would not work for a human Dark Lord with illusions of grandeur. He was very angry, but he didn't start a fight. _That_ should have been our first warning. A few days later Marianna disappeared after being picked up from Beauxbatons." He growled. "If only that stupid wench of Vladovich's hadn't convinced him that she needed to go to a _human_ school. Humans are far more sentimental about their children not surviving their education."

Rivehn gave Yankovich a look. "You have never had children, so you wouldn't understand."

The demon just shrugged. "If they're not capable of surviving Shikaan or one of the other schools, then they don't deserve to live. He shouldn't have mated with a human, anyway."

Violet eyes rolled in exasperation. "You are very close-minded when it comes to love, Yankovich."

"I just don't understand why he mated a _human_. They're a pitifully weak race." He scowled.

"Not all humans are weak, Yankovich. And love doesn't always follow _your_ logical reasoning."

The demon scoffed, looking entirely unconvinced. "I can understand wanting to fuck one, but to have a child with? Very stupid."

"I disagree. There are humans with very unique gifts who would be wise to have children outside their own species."

"Oh? Who. I haven't met a single one."

Rivehn raised an eyebrow and looked at Cyrus. Yankovich followed his gaze and frowned. "Obsidian?"

"He has rune sight, magic sensitivity, and abnormally large magic and death magic reserves. It would be a waste for him to have children with another human."

Cyrus stared at the two incredulously as they continued to discuss what magical species it would be wisest to _breed him with_. Like he was just going to _go along with it._

"I wonder what kind of children would result in Obsidian mating with a shadow demon," Rivehn said as he glanced between Cyrus and Yankovich.

The demon sputtered. "Are you implying something?!"

Rivehn's expression was completely placid. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Yankovich. I was merely speaking of the benefits of crossbreeding."

"Excuse me, but I'm standing right here," Cyrus cut in, annoyed with the absolute absurdity of the situation.

Rivehn looked over at him. "Technically, you are sitting."

Cyrus, who hadn't moved during the entire explosion of sexual tension not five minute earlier, glared. He crossed his arms over his chest when Rivehn looked away from him dismissively. _Again_.

"We are off topic. What did you do when you discovered your niece had been captured?" When Yankovich paused before answering, Rivehn got a knowing look on his face. "You destroyed the mansion again, didn't you?"

The demon's face actually turned a little red. "No. Just the East wing."

The vampire _rolled his eyes_. "You always had an anger management problem."

Yankovich glared at him and crossed his arms. "You're one to talk."

Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "You are angered by many things, Yankovich. I am only angered by _you_." The demon's lips curved, smug. "Continue with the tale, or this will take the entire evening."

"Fine. Vladovich told me that I had better find his niece or he would, I believe, 'put every dangerous species related to poison ivy in my bed every night for the rest of my life'. He can be violent with his sticks and leaves."

Rivehn looked amused. "It is called herbology, Yankovich."

"Whatever. I swear they're like his children, the way he mothers them. Anyway, so the first the first thing I had to do was try to find some information on this psycho human, and a minimum amount of research proved Harry Potter to be a good source of Intel. And since we have our very own 'Boy-Who-Lived'," he said sarcastically, "I figured I could just ask _him_."

Rivehn turned and looked at Cyrus. "I had suspected, but it was never confirmed." Cyrus stared at him as the vampire admitted to having known for only god knew how long. "So you decided to harass Obsidian Sunday night?"

Yankovich looked shifty. "You heard about that?"

"Yes, Yankovich. It is highly inappropriate for you to have visited a student outside of school, _especially_ concerning a subject not pertaining to course work."

"I needed information, alright?!" Yankovich shouted defensively.

Rivehn's eyes narrowed. "Don't take that tone with me. I am merely warning you in case a student decides to sue you for molestation or some other offense that would result in the distasteful end of your employment."

"Whatever. Like Kyranes could afford to fire me. And would _you_ stop interrupting? Because _I_ don't want to be here all night. I still have to find my niece!" When Rivehn remained silent with a decidedly unimpressed look on his face, Yankovich continued. "Cyrus got his guardian for me, Snape? And the vampire told me most of what I needed to know except for Voldemort's location." He scowled. "It took me two days of waiting to get my hands on Malfoy in order to torture the information out of him." Here Cyrus choked in surprise, but neither vampire nor demon spared him a glance. "Voldemort was very smart in how he made his Circle take their oaths of silence. I tortured him, severing his limbs piece by piece, but he never said a word even when the pain got too much for him. I had to tear his soul out of his body, severing his connection to his magic with death in order for the oath to be null and void. He spoke when I commanded him, after that."

Cyrus stared at the demon who spoke so nonchalantly about torturing a human (even though he was a Death Eater) to death and then ripping his soul out of his body. What a horrible way to go. Would Cyrus know how to do that one day?

"It was child's play finding the wizard's fortress after that. He must have had a Master ward it at some point, but they weren't nearly as good at the wards _you_ can put up in five minutes, so it didn't take long for me to break them. Once I got inside I tried to find Marianna, but she wasn't there, so I cornered Voldemort and demanded he return my niece to me if he wanted to live. He laughed at me, Rivehn, and told me he'd left her in another location. I admit I got… angry. The plan was to rip his soul from his body, like I did to find the fortress, but… It didn't work."

Rivehn was watching him with a blank expression. "What do you mean it didn't work?"

The demon bared his teeth, but it was more to himself than at Rivehn. "I mean, I tried to tear his soul into death and it _didn't work_. What kind of ritual would you have to do to get that kind of result? To be immortal? Whatever it was, it looks like it's twisted him beyond human recognition."

Rivehn looked thoughtful. "There are many rituals that could be used to attain some level of immortality."

"But to be able to withstand the power of a _necromancer?_ I couldn't even kill a puny little human." He scowled. "And now my niece is still in their hands, and I have no idea where she is." He crossed his arms over his chest and growled to himself, eyes flashing darkly in frustration.

Annoyance flashed in Rivehn's eyes. "You need to keep a calm mind if you're ever going to find her, Yankovich. Stop brooding."

The demon's scowl deepened and he glared at Rivehn. "Easy for you to say. It's not your niece_._"

Rivehn just proceeded to ignore him and started perusing his bookshelf for something. After a few moments, he seemed to find what he was looking for, so he walked back over to Yankovich while flipping through the pages. "It is likely that if he is able to withstand a necromancer ripping his soul out of his body, he is either a necromancer himself or had used a ritual with sacrifices to achieve his desired result." He held the book out to the demon and Yankovich started glancing over it.

"I doubt it could be any of these. I'll have to brush up on my rituals if I'm going to find a way to kill him."

Rivehn hummed thoughtfully to himself for a moment before turning to look at Cyrus. "Mr. Obsidian, do you have any light to shed on this unfortunate situation?"

Cyrus blinked. "Um, no?"

The vampire's eyes narrowed. "You are lying."

The human sweated under narrowed violet eyes for a total of two seconds before he spilled. "There's a prophecy."

Yankovich snorted. "Humans are always concocting prophecies."

Rivehn shot him an irritated look. "And some of them come true."

"Maybe, but most prophecies could be read in so many ways that it's _impossible_ to predict what will happen."

"Regardless. Mr. Obsidian, share this prophecy with us. Perhaps it will answer some of our questions."

Cyrus bit his lip nervously. Should he tell them? They probably wouldn't let it get back to Voldemort, but he couldn't be _sure_.

"_Now_, Obsidian. We don't have all night."

"Will you promise not to tell Voldemort, or anyone else?"

Rivehn frowned. "Very well. Speak. And give us the direct wording, not what you or anyone else has gleaned from it. Humans are notorious for misinterpreting prophecies."

Cyrus acquiesced reluctantly. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. And then it repeats."

Yankovich looked intrigued now. "Either must die at the hand of the other? That's interesting. There are plenty of ways to die but not actually _die_, and neither can live while the other survives could be interpreted in a multitude of ways." Then he frowned and fixed an irritated glare on Cyrus. "Don't tell me they've interpreted it that _you_ are the only one who can kill snakeface." When Cyrus nodded, the demon's expression turned incredulous. "How in the world do they expect a puny and incompetent human like _you_ to kill him?"

Cyrus tried not to be offended and shrugged. "Fuck if I know. Dumbledore said it had something to do with love."

Rivehn and Yankovich traded varying degrees of disbelief before the demon burst into laughter. "Now isn't _that_ the biggest pile of shit I'd ever heard! Love! Kill someone like _Voldemort?_ It's laughable!"

Rivehn looked decidedly amused. "Perhaps it is this 'power that the Dark Lord knows not.' He has rune sight, and a large reservoir of death magic. I highly doubt that _love_ is the answer, however." He turned to look at Cyrus, an amused quirk to his lips. "What else did this 'Dumbledore' tell you?"

Cyrus scowled. "Nothing. He never told me anything unless he deemed it necessary I know. Like it's not necessary to know when I've had a Dark Lord trying to kill my every single fucking year except third."

Yankovich looked intrigued. "So, he believes it too? That you're destined to kill him? Why else would he try to off you."

Cyrus shrugged. "I don't know. He knows part of the prophecy, enough of it to figure out that it has to do with _me_, but not about the 'kill or be killed' clause."

Yankovich snorted. "First you need to get it out of your head that it's kill or be killed. There are plenty of ways this prophecy can play out, and I can assure you the way _Dumbledore_ may have told you is likely the _most_ improbable."

Cyrus didn't look convinced.

Rivehn looked thoughtful. "So it is likely that Dumbledore may have more information. Do you know where we can find him?"

"He's the Headmaster at Hogwarts, in Scotland."

The vampire nodded. "Come, Yankovich. It is only eight o'clock. Do you know where Hogsmeade is, or shall I side along apparate you?"

Yankovich looked at him with a funny expression. "How do _you_ know where this hog place is?"

Rivehn looked amused. "While you lock yourself up in your study or play with dead things, _I_ have traveled the world during my time off."

The demon rolled his eyes as he stood and put his hand on Rivehn's shoulder. Before they left, he looked at Cyrus. "Don't leave this office until we get back."

Cyrus frowned. "But why? I already told you everything I know."

Rivehn answered this time. "Because you may know more than you think you know, and we are unsure whether this meeting with Dumbledore will produce any fruit. Feel free to read my collection to keep yourself entertained." And with that said, they both disappeared with a quiet _pop_.

Cyrus scowled and stalked over to the bookshelf. At least Rivehn had an extensive and rare selection. He picked one at random and started flipping through the contents pages.

_oOo_

It was nearly an hour later that Rivehn and Yankovich finally showed up, both displaying varying levels of irritation.

"That man! He is positively _infuriating!_"

Cyrus blinked. "Was it the lemon drops?" He asked Rivehn, as Yankovich was stalking around the room with fury, and Cyrus didn't want to interrupt.

The vampire looked amused for a split second before the irritation took over again. "He is quite a difficult man to get a straight answer out of."

Cyrus nodded sagely. "Can you imagine going through five years of that? It was painful. As in, poke your eyeballs out with a burning stick painful." This got another almost-smile out of the vampire before Rivehn caught sight of Yankovich about to destroy something and quickly intervened.

"If you destroy one object in this room, Yankovich, I _will_ break your tail in seven places."

The demon angrily nodded and threw himself down onto the leather couch. "I can't believe that old man! The sheer audacity of that _human_ to refuse to answer our questions! And of course the half-answers he gave us while dancing around the topic were hardly useful." Yankovich scowled darkly.

"Yes. And the stipulation for his co-operation was…" Rivehn paused.

"Ridiculous? Annoying? Infuriatingly _stupid?!_"

Rivehn looked amused. "I was going to say disturbing. Dumbledore seems to have an unhealthy obsession with our student here." He turned to look at Cyrus, who was still holding the book open to the last page he'd been reading, and Yankovich followed his gaze.

Cyrus blinked and suddenly felt like the deer in the headlights. "And… what exactly was that… stipulation." Three guesses what it was, and the first two didn't count.

"He wants you back at Hogwarts."

Cyrus scowled mutinously. "I refuse! And- hey wait a minute, how did he know I was here?" Panic had his heart beating faster and a nervous sweat breaking out on the palms of his hands. He knew his eyes were wide with it, but he couldn't help the sheer dread that dropped an iron anvil in his gut at the thought of Dumbledore knowing who and where he was.

Rivehn and Yankovich traded looks. What was going through their heads Cyrus could only guess. "We merely told him that you had provided the information. He would not speak to us until we dropped your name. He knows not where you are, or your new identity."

Cyrus let a huge, relieved sigh, collapsing into the chair he'd been sitting in before the two teachers had returned. He saw the look Rivehn and Yankovich exchanged, but he didn't care. _He was still safe_. "What did you say to his condition?"

"We said that it was not our decision whether you returned to Hogwarts, but your own, so he changed his stipulation. He now wants us to bring you to speak to him, and then he will tell _you_ what we want to know." Rivehn's violet eyes narrowed. "Apparently, the information is for your ears only."

Cyrus felt the blood drain out of his face as he looked back and forth between Rivehn and Yankovich. "A-and what did you tell him?"

"That we would ask you. And that it was your decision."

Cyrus bit his lip. "A-and are you going to 'ask', or are you going to _'ask'_?"

When Rivehn paused before answering, Cyrus started thinking up escape plans. He could apparate to Spinner's End. Neither Yankovich nor Rivehn knew where it was. And if he couldn't get out of this office, he could try to… try to… blast them with his death magic, or something, to get them to let him go, or he could, he could-

"Calm down, Cyrus. We will not force you go to against your will."

But Cyrus wasn't calm. Oh no, he was nowhere near calm. Because even if they wouldn't _force_ him, they would _coerce _him to go because they needed their _information_. And Cyrus didn't care. Cyrus didn't care if they didn't get it. He wouldn't go back to Dumbledore. He wouldn't get any closer to the bastard that had broken his replacement wand without a thought, had kept his feather from him, had locked him in a dungeon and may or may have not influenced Ron to do a bit of torturing, had left him at the Dursley's to live in a _cupboard_ until he was eleven, had-

A hand slapped him across the face and he blinked, snapped out of his thoughts. Cool fingers grasped his chin and moved his head back into place, and Cyrus stared into calm violet eyes and felt the soothing aura of the vampire run over his skin and through his hair and he finally _breathed_. Oxygen went rushing back to his brain in a rush, and his eyes half-closed as his equilibrium reasserted itself and he could see clearly again. He blinked.

"Are you alright now, Mr. Obsidian?"

Cyrus blinked again. "I… I think so."

Yankovich muttered something under his breath in that gutteral language, and Rivehn's head snapped around so fast Cyrus didn't see him move. "Did you not just _see_ his panic attack, Yankovich? We are _not_ forcing him to go back there." Rivehn's voice snapped through the room, and it wasn't _angry_, but you could definitely hear the edge.

The demon just glared at him and looked the other way.

A knock at the door interrupted the tense silence, and Rivehn released Cyrus's chin to answer it. The man who walked through the door looked similar to Yankovich, wings and tail included, and the first thing he did was walk up to Cyrus's Necromancy teacher and punch him in the face.

"YOU IDIOT!!"

Yankovich held a face to his bruised jaw and raised an eyebrow at the man, er, demon in front of him. He looked resigned. "Hello Vladovich."

"YOU ARE THE MOST IMPULSIVE, MORONIC _IMBECILE_ I HAVE HAD THE DISPLEASURE OF BEING RELATED TO!"

Yankovich raised both eyebrows, his face as stoic as a rock, but Cyrus could see a flash of emotion in the blue eyes. "That's a little harsh, you think?"

Vladovich glared at him and pulled a box out of his voluminous robes. He shoved it into Yankovich's face, and the other demon cautiously took it. Glancing between his brother's furious face and the box, he opened it. His eyes widened slightly before narrowing in anger. Cyrus wasn't sitting at the right angle to see the contents.

"Did you put a stasis charm on it?"

Vladovich exploded. "THAT BASTARD CUT OFF MY DAUGHTERS EAR AND _MAILED_ IT TO ME WITH A FUCKING _OWL_, AND THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?!"

Yankovich looked annoyed. "An owl, really?" he asked sarcastically. "I hear wizards are odd that way. And the reason I ask this, _brother_, is that it will need a stasis charm if a healer is ever going to _reattach_ it."

Vladovich opened his mouth before pausing and taking a good look at the ear. He put a stasis charm on it just to be safe. "That doesn't excuse you! This is a colossal fuck up of a magnitude akin to the time you raised the entire family graveyard for your school project and _lost control of them!_"

Yankovich glared. "If you were so concerned about me fucking it up, why didn't _you_ go instead?! I'm _sure_ you could have saved her with your twigs and leaves," he bit out sarcastically.

Fury radiated off the other demon's form. "You… you… argh! You know very well that you are the one who caused this problem, and it will be _you_ that fixes it!"

"Yes, and I'm sure the lack of espionage techniques available to _sticks_ didn't factor into your decision to make _me_ save your daughter at all. I may have failed this time, but he hasn't caused her any irreparable damage _yet_, so stop acting like I killed her!"

"You might as well have! You always hated Guenevere! You'd just leave our daughter there to rot if you had the choice, wouldn't you?!" But Vladovich didn't wait for a response he was so far gone in anger. His robes exploded in a wave of thorny vines, picking Yankovich up and slamming him against the ceiling. Before Cyrus's eyes, the vines sprouted fiery orange flowers and started _breathing fire_. The demon cast a shield around his face, and blood started dripping from where the thorny vines had punctured his torso and limbs.

Yankovich's eyes glowed sapphire with power, and slowly the vines attached to him began to turn grey, shriveling and dying. He broke out of the dead vines with ease and landed on the floor in a crouch, killing every new plant that tried to get within an inch of him. Eventually they seemed to reach a stalemate, both angry, frustrated, and glaring at each other.

Before the fight could explode into another round and potentially damage some of Rivehn's property, the vampire intercepted them and pulled Vladovich over to a chair. "You will sit and drink some sixty-year-old scotch until you are rational enough to speak without screaming or burning all the furniture in my office."

Vladovich glared as he was sat down in one of the chairs near Cyrus. The human stared at the demon not-so-politely, and the demon's expression darkened. "What the hell is a human doing here?"

Rivehn handed the demon a glass and watched the demon throw it back. "He is involved, to say the least."

"I see." Vladovich stared down at his empty glass. "This is good stuff."

Rivehn's lips twitched in amusement. "Then I would suggest you not inhale the next glass."

Vladovich had the grace to look sheepish, and this time he took a sip and let it swirl around in his mouth before swallowing. Slowly, the positively furious look on his face relaxed into a light scowl.

As Cyrus watched he wondered if there was a technique to drinking booze, or if techniques only applied to _good_ booze. He didn't really care, because he wasn't much for drinking. Maybe a bit socially, if he needed to, but having to endure Vernon drunk had not been a pleasant affair, so he had no intention of ever following in _those_ gigantic footsteps.

"Was there a letter, Vladovich?" Rivehn finally asked when the demon had apparently calmed down some.

The apparent herbologist sighed and ran a hand over his face. For the first time Cyrus noticed how bloodshot the fairly familiar blue eyes were. Vladovich's were a slightly lighter shade, however, more blue than sapphire. And his cheeks were gaunt and unhealthy looking. He watched as the demon reached into his robes and pulled out a high-grade parchment envelope with a broken black seal on the back.

Rivehn took it and slipped the letter out with nimble fingers. He looked between Yankovich and Vladovich. "Shall I read it aloud?"

Yankovich nodded, while Vladovich just took another swig of scotch before pouring himself some more.

"_Dear Mr. Vladovich,_

_I must say I find it highly irregular that demons do not have family names. As your brother shares the last five letters of your name, shall I assume it is a family name? Not that it particularly matters. It is regrettable that we have come to this, but after my most loyal servant came to an unfortunate end at the hands of your brother, I am no longer so agreeable. I'm sure you have found my enclosed gift. For every day I do not receive my army of inferi, I will remove another item from her person. If, by midnight tomorrow, I do not have that which I have asked, her hand will be next. If I do not receive my army with a week, I will give the girl to MacNair. He has a sweet tooth for children. Particularly little girls._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lord Voldemort"_

"He sounds pretty conceited, does he not?" Rivehn commented, folding the parchment and putting it back in the envelope.

Cyrus snorted, and all eyes turned to him. "He's a half-blood ruling the purebloods of wizarding society, who are all a bunch of bigoted fools because either they do not _know_ he is a disgusting 'half-blood' or they choose to ignore it. He is convinced of his own superiority and believes no one can hurt him but Dumbledore."

Yankovich scowled. "Dumbledore? What could that lemon-loving fool do that would scare _Voldemort?_ If the old bastard was capable of defeating him, he would have done it years ago."

Vladovich glared. "You never did answer my question. What_ did_ you do to piss this bastard off enough to cut my daughter's ear off?" His voice was tightly controlled as his hands shook around his glass.

The other demon growled. "I tried to rip his soul out of his body, and it didn't work."

The brother's eyes widened. "B-but, that's impossible! You're one of the most powerful necromancers alive today!"

"I don't know what happened, but I couldn't rip his soul out of his body. We've been trying to find out what kind of rituals he could have done to himself to make him seemingly immortal, but we haven't found any definite leads yet, and our _only_ current lead refuses to tell us anything unless this _human student_ does as he wants." Yankovich scowled at Cyrus and the human glared right back. What right did he have to try to force Cyrus to go back to Dumbledore? He wasn't going back!

Vladovich turned the full force of that angry glare on him, and Cyrus shifted away in his seat. He watched the demon cautiously for a few moments before the anger began to lessen. The softer look in his eyes now surprised Cyrus. "I wouldn't hurt you, child. Please, is there something you can do to help my daughter?" The anguish and hope shining in those eyes made his resolve crack. Cedric Diggory's father had looked something like that when he first saw his dead son. Hope that he wasn't dead, and anguish when he realized it was true. Those eyes shining with tears and a soul-wrenching sorrow had hit Cyrus where it hurt, and Vladovich was no different.

Could he just walk away, and not feel guilty, if he could have helped this girl and _didn't?_

"Please," Vladovich asked again, leaning over slightly as if getting closer would help him convey his sincerity. "Please, if there's anything you can do to help my daughter, _please_."

Cyrus's resolve cracked a bit more, and he bit his lip at those shining blue eyes. This demon _loved_ his daughter. He didn't think of her as worth any less because she was half-demon, he _loved_ her with his very heart and soul.

It made him wish he had someone who would look like that if _he_ was ever kidnapped by a red-eyed psychopath.

He looked at Rivehn and Yankovich, the former who was watching him with a mild expression that gave nothing away, and the latter with a scowl. His sapphire eyes gave him away, though, and they asked him the same thing Vladovich had without words.

Turning green eyes to Rivehn, the mostly-calm rock of this whole situation, he made his decision. "Can you promise me that, if I go with you, you'll keep me safe from Dumbledore?"

Rivehn and he stared into each other's eyes for a good half a minute, and Cyrus ignored the heavy weight of Yankovich and his brother's stare. Finally, the vampire nodded. "Yes, I will keep you safe from this human, though I don't see how he is as threatening as you think."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed, and he felt his magic stir in anger at the thought of the scars he now carried on his mind from when Severus and he had burned away all the brambles. "You have no idea."

Damn him and his penchant for saving people.

_-Toki Mirage-_

I just realized that I really haven't been giving Roos (pronounced rose), my muse, enough credit and time in the spot light. She is my living muse and this story would not exist without her! (Author bows to the greatness of Roos, then proceeds to glomp her)

I hope y'all liked the chapter. I ended up writing the beginning of chapter 13 at first, instead of the beginning of chapter 12, which I find highly amusing myself. (grins) At the very least, chapter 13 will be out faster because of it. I wrote most of this chapter in one day, and I hope you guys liked the slashy bit in the middle. For those of you who are reading this fic in spite of the slash warning, I'm sorry, but it gets veeery slashy from here on out and you might wanna call it quits. That's not to say that characters are going to be exploding in frottage or full on sex every single bloody chapter, but the gayness is going to be more present in the writing. :) As well, when the sex starts getting beyond the M rating, I will begin posting this story on my affdotnet account, or on livejournal, and will supply you all with the proper links at the beginning of each chapter that has been 'edited' due to content.

I'd also like to take a moment to let you all know that I have created a forum for lines of questioning or comments on my HP stories or my writing. I will not be giving spoilers in the forum, but I will be discussing concerns or ideas that you come up with. For example, LDBP chapter nine is now in need of an editing because the wonderful 'serene saber' brought some things to my attention that I decided needed fixing. A link is on my profile.

Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Dumbledore

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

As you may have noticed, 'Suspense' has been added to the list of warnings in the summary of this story, and is now in the Genre as well. So, if you do not like suspense, the author and her muse kindly request that you click the little X in the corner of your window, and not read this story. We thank you for your consideration. : )

_oOo_

Chapter Thirteen:

_oOo_

McGonagall was waiting for them at the entrance to the grounds when the apparated in, and Cyrus, having changed his appearance back to that of Harry Potter, tried to keep the scowl off his face. He'd always liked McGonagall. She was strict, but fair, and as far as he _knew_ she had nothing to do with Dumbledore's… _obsession_ with Harry, as Rivehn had called it.

She looked surprised to see him for a moment before she smiled, her eyes tired but displaying pleasure at seeing him. "How are you doing, Mr. Potter? Are you enjoying where you're staying currently?"

Cyrus's respect for her went up a notch. He didn't have to try all that hard to smile. "Yes, Professor. It's been very… educational."

She nodded and introduced herself to the 'guests'. "I am Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall." She inclined her head to both Rivehn and Yankovich before motioning towards the school. He wasn't sure if she realized what they were, as Yankovich had glamoured his wings and tail, but she was polite and neutral as she had always been. "Shall we go?"

Cyrus glanced at Rivehn and Yankovich before following her. "I'm curious, Professor, why were you waiting for us at the entrance to the grounds? We didn't send an owl ahead to announce our arrival."

"I was merely informed that some guests of the Headmaster would be arriving in an unknown amount of time. I hadn't expected it to be _you_, Mr. Potter. I admit, it's good to see you in good health. At one point no one was sure whether you had been kidnapped or left by choice." She looked like she was dying to say something else, but decided not to.

"I would think that after Dumbledore's allegations concerning Mr. Potter that you would be less than pleased to see him," Yankovich commented, no emotion revealed on his face.

Cyrus scrounged through his mind for context. Oh, right. The dead basilisk. How had he forgotten that? He inwardly cringed. Yankovich must have found out about it from the Prophet… or heard about the dead basilisk and _then_ read the paper.

McGonagall looked highly unimpressed. "I do not form an opinion on a matter until I am in possession of all the facts. The Headmaster has been very tight lipped about the situation, and as such certain… questions are brought up that cannot be discovered from anyone but the source." She looked at Cyrus.

Eugh. This was a tricky situation. Did he want to clear his name and reveal he was a necromancer? Or did he want to make up some lie to get the 'truth' out? It wasn't like anyone would believe him. Dumbledore was held into high of standing in the wizarding communities. Anyone trying to run a smear campaign against him might be either gunned down by the wizard himself or by his half-witted 'followers'. There was a reason why Fudge feared him, after all.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Professor," he finally decided to say.

They had reached the castle at this point, and as McGonagall pushed the door open for them, she fixed steady eyes on Cyrus. "Whatever threat you perceive here, Harry, I would have you know that if you need someone here in the wizarding world, I am quite capable of keeping secrets." She smiled mischievously, and for a second she seemed to emulate her animagus form before it disappeared again into a stern disposition.

Cyrus inclined his head in acknowledgement of the offer.

It took them around ten minutes to make their way to the Headmaster's office. It was almost ten o'clock at night at that point, but Yankovich hadn't been willing to wait until tomorrow, understandably. They ran across one prefect during the walk, but Yankovich made quick work of him with his angry scowl. Cyrus would have felt bad for him if he'd recognized the face, but as it was he could care less. Yankovich had every right to be pissed. If the necromancer hadn't given Voldemort his army of inferi by midnight tomorrow, his niece's hand would be gift wrapped and mailed by owl.

The password for the gargoyle was a something Cyrus had never heard of. With Dumbledore's track-record, though, it was probably another muggle candy. McGonagall left them there with a word of goodbye and a slight smile for Cyrus. He smiled back before entering the gargoyle after Rivehn and Yankovich.

When they entered Dumbledore's office, Cyrus couldn't help the shiver of fear that raced down his spine. Whereas before he had associated disapproving gazes and detentions with this room, now all he felt was the restraints tying him to that chair and the cold metal on his wrists that kept his magic at bay. Making his expression as blank as he could, he didn't meet the twinkling blue eyes of the Headmaster sitting behind his desk.

"Good evening, gentleman! Harry, my boy, it's good to see you well." His smile was so jovial and grandfatherly that Cyrus wanted to puke. 'I'm nothing but an old man. Not dangerous, see? Flash of teeth before he eats you alive,' Cyrus mentally mocked to himself, and the speck of humour made him feel a little better under the glare of the full-watt Dumbledorian Twinkle.

"Good evening, Headmaster."

"Would you like some tea? Rivehn? Yankovich?" Dumbledore asked as he motioned for them to sit down.

Two sets of eyes narrowed. "_Professors_ Rivehn and Yankovich, as you well know from our last visit, _Headmaster_."

"Of course, of course. I'm afraid my memory isn't what it used to be." He twinkled and turned to Cyrus. "And you, Harry, my boy? Tea?"

Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Lemon drop?"

"_No_."

The old man pouted. "No need to be so rude, my boy. I was merely extending courtesy." He proceeded to pop one of the candies into his mouth.

Cyrus refused to look at his professors to see if they were watching disapprovingly, instead staring stubbornly at one of the bookshelves, trying to make out the faded titles.

"Have you been enjoying yourself at your new school, Harry?"

Cyrus's head snapped to the old man so fast he almost got whiplash. "How did you know I was in another school?"

Dumbledore smiled that all-knowing smile, and it set Cyrus's teeth on edge. "After that display of power a month ago, I would be surprised if you weren't, Harry. But thank you for confirming it for me."

He felt his face flush with anger and embarrassment at having been played. _Fucking old man_. He was pretending ignorance with every other line of the questioning the old goat pulled out of his arse from that moment on.

"What else have you been learning there?"

"None of your business."

The twinkling blue eyes wilted, and the wrinkles around his eyes seemed to be emphasized. He played the 'I'm-an-old-man' card for a few minutes filled with 'I'm-so-disappointed-in-you' atmosphere before deciding it wasn't working. He let out a sad sigh and sat back in his chair. "That's too bad, Harry. I had hoped we'd be able to overcome our past misunderstandings."

Cyrus snorted. "Not going to happen."

"Then you won't tell me why you became a necromancer, Harry? It is a Dark path, and I fear that it is one more similarity between you and… Tom."

Cyrus resisted the urge to scoff and widened his eyes slightly in innocent surprise – just enough to be believable and not so much that it was fake. "Necromancer? What are you talking about, Headmaster? I'm not practicing any dark magic." Which was a lie. He was practicing the Dark Arts, but in relation to this conversation, _necromancy_ wasn't a Dark Art. He didn't know what stupid books Dumbledore was reading, but death magic was nothing like dark magic. They were completely different arts, and only the ignorant bigots of the wizarding world put them both under the same label of Dark.

"Don't try to deny it, Harry. After your departure you left an animated basilisk terrorizing the students of the school."

Cyrus narrowed his eyes and thought of a way he could twist this to his advantage. Playing verbal chess with Dumbledore wasn't something he'd tried to do before, so he wasn't sure how successful he'd be. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Headmaster, but I had nothing to do with the dead basilisk. The blame for that lies completely on the associate of mine that busted me out of your _dungeons_."

He caught sight of his professors turning their heads to look at him out of the corner of his eyes, but he paid them no mind, his eyes fixed firmly on the old man's face. He didn't like meeting the twinkling blue eyes, but with his mind compressed and sunk in his magic, there was no way for Dumbledore to read his thoughts through his eyes with Legilimency. He saw the exact moment of realization on Dumbledore's face when the twinkle hardened slightly.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, and it was layered with such disappointment and sorrow that Cyrus almost believed it for a millisecond. He would have bought it if he weren't so very _familiar_ with the old man's manipulations. "It was a precaution, for your _safety._"

Yeah. Cyrus wasn't buying it. "I highly doubt it is standard procedure when protecting someone to put _magic suppressing cuffs_ on their wrists and throw them in a cold and musty dungeon with no food or water." At a surprised sound from one of his teachers, Cyrus turned to see Rivehn's eyes glowing violet with ire.

"You are the one who put those cuffs on him?"

The disappointment-o-meter went up a few notches. Dumbledore kept his attention firmly on Cyrus, dismissing Rivehn as if the vampire hadn't said anything. "It was only done out of concern for your safety, Harry. There are Death Eater children in this school, and I can't protect you at all times."

Cyrus snorted. "Give it up, Dumbledore. The only one believing the shit coming out of your mouth is you."

For a moment the façade cracked, and those twinkling blue eyes turned on him like daggers before the old man forced them to twinkle again.

"It's unfortunate that you see it that way, my boy."

'I'm not your _boy_,' Cyrus growled in his mind, but stubbornly kept his mouth shut. "How about we stop playing games, Dumbledore? You know what we're here for. Information on Voldemort."

Dumbledore smiled. "Are you going to return to Hogwarts, Harry?"

Rivehn cut in before Cyrus could respond. "That was no longer in the stipulations, Headmaster, as you well know. Your demands were that we bring Mr. Potter with us, no more than that. And we have. You will uphold your end of the bargain and tell us that which we wish to know."

Cyrus could feel the vampire's aura seep into the air around them, and he fought off the pleasant haze. He needed to be sharp if he was going to get out of this encounter relatively unscathed.

Dumbledore frowned. "I believe I never agreed to share the information with _you_, Professors, but _Harry_. And the only way for Harry to receive the information is in the event of his return to Hogwarts. It would be dangerous for him to be outside the protective wards of Hogwarts with this information."

"Dangerous? You openly admitted a moment ago that you had the children of Death Eaters running amok in your school. Why would he wish to return to this place?"

Cyrus resisted the urge to smile. Rivehn was on a roll. And Cyrus had _seen_ him have debates with the other teachers at the head table. He nearly always won. He just _knew_ more than everyone else. Cyrus didn't know how old he was, but he did know that Rivehn probably studied more than any other vampire.

"His education here at Hogwarts is invaluable," Dumbledore parried back with a jovial smile.

Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "From what I have seen, I highly doubt that. Your professors and curriculum are severely lacking."

"That is an opinion that many do not share, Professor Rivehn. Hogwarts has been named one of the top schools in Europe. Does your school boast the same?"

The look on Rivehn's face was amused. "Nice attempt, Headmaster, but you will have to play the game for many more centuries before you can weasel information out of me."

Dumbledore looked positively innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Professor. I was merely attempting to compare the merits of our respective schools."

The vampire looked entirely unconvinced. "Regardless of the dubious quality of your institution, Headmaster, we are here to discuss the apparent immortality of one Tom Marvolo Riddle."

The elderly man just smiled. "And that information will be available to young Harry when he returns to Hogwarts."

Rivehn's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "And when that flesh eating curse on your arm reaches your brain, and Mr. Potter has still not returned to Hogwarts, how then will he get this information?"

Dumbledore adjusted the robes on his right hand, as if to assure himself that it was still hidden. "I have contingencies in place. It would be best for those involved, however, if Harry would simply return to Hogwarts."

Cyrus glared at him. "I'm never coming back, and if you doom the wizarding world with your stupidity it's no skin off _my_ back."

Dumbledore adopted a look of disappointment. "How can you say that, my boy? Of course the fate of the wizarding world affects you. You have friends here, a home, and a history. Are you prepared to throw all that away?" The blue eyes twinkled sadly, and Dumbledore looked older than he ever had before.

Cyrus glared at him. "It's not me who's throwing it away, it's _you_. Contrary to what you've convinced yourself, Dumbledore, it is not my life's purpose to be firmly entrenched under your thumb."

The Headmaster sighed as if the world weighed too heavily on his shoulders. "I'm sorry that you see things that way, Harry. I wanted you to return peacefully, but it seems I have no choice."

Cyrus tensed, his phoenix wand snapping out of its holster and into his right hand. Rivehn and Yankovich were eyeing Dumbledore warily. He hoped Rivehn would keep his promise to protect him, but with Dumbledore, who knew what could happen? He had a stunner on the tip of his tongue when the old man spoke again.

"It seems I'll have to let you go, Harry." Cyrus relaxed minutely, but Dumbledore wasn't done. "I just hope that some day you will see the error of your ways, my boy. The Order cannot win this war on its own. It has always been the greater good that we strive to protect," he smiled sadly, "no matter how the shadows may cloud our way."

It was like a switch had been flicked, and Cyrus blacked out momentarily, his neck going slack, his chin falling to rest against his chest, his wand dropping from numb fingers. When he blinked and raised his head a moment later, he stared around himself in confusion.

Seeing Professor Dumbledore behind his desk, Harry smiled. "Hello, Professor."

Dumbledore practically beamed. "Hello, Harry. Would you like some tea?"

Harry nodded. "Please." He saw the guests that where with him in Dumbledore's office and frowned slightly at how they were staring at him. He hated people staring at him.

The tea was poured magically and floated over to him. "Lemon drop?" the Headmaster asked, holding out a tin hopefully.

Harry laughed, deciding to ignore their odd company. "No, sir. Thank you." It was funny how no matter how many times Harry refused the candy, Dumbledore kept offering.

"What did you do?"

Harry continued to sip his tea, as the question had obviously not been aimed at him. He watched Dumbledore as the elderly wizard turned his attention to the visitors. Harry was unsure which had asked the question.

Dumbledore was understandably puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Professor Yankovich." He turned to Harry. "Would you like to return to the Griffindor Tower to sleep tonight, Harry? I'm sure your friends will be eager to see you."

"Of course, Professor."

Yankovich stood, his plush chair slamming back with the force of the movement into one of the tables holding peculiar trinkets and baubles. Some fell to the floor and broke with a crash. Harry watched him with confusion and some trepidation. Something told him this man could be very frightening when angry.

"I don't know what kind of sick fuck you are, but all we wanted was information on Voldemort, and you-"

The other man placed a hand on his elbow and forced him back into his seat. Harry stared in awe as the chair was maneuvered back into place beneath him wandlessly by the man with the violet eyes. Feeling the anger and tension pouring off of the blue-eyed man, Harry stood up in fright and moved closer to Dumbledore. The guests turned their attention to him and were watching him, the blue-eyed man with confusion and anger, and the other with a blank expression. Harry moved closer to his Professor until his hip hit the desk.

Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Harry. They were just leaving." He turned ice-cold eyes on the intruders in his office. "Weren't you, Professors?"

The blue-eyed man was scowling something furious, hands clenched into fists and trembling with anger. The violet-eyed man, however, kept his restraining hand on the other man's shoulder and kept a placid expression.

"What did you do to Mr. Potter?" Violet Eyes asked, his tenor voice smooth as silk as it cut through the air.

Dumbledore sadly shook his head. "I have done nothing. Don't you see? He doesn't want to leave Hogwarts. Do you, Harry?" He smiled at Harry, eyes twinkling merrily.

The teen frowned. "Of course not!"

The Headmaster turned back to the Professors. "You see? Now, if you would kindly leave the premises, before I have Hogwarts eject you from the grounds." His eyes were ice again. "It is within my power as Headmaster."

Then the oddest thing happened, and Harry had never seen anything like it. One instant the violet-eyed man was sitting inconspicuously in his chair, and the next a chain of odd shapes started growing around him at an exponential rate. As soon as the first chain was complete, a second started growing out of thin air. Within ten seconds Harry had lost count of how many chains were in the air, and he couldn't help but stare in awe at the beautiful and tantalizingly familiar sight.

Why did they look so familiar?

"What are you hoping to accomplish with this show of magic, Professor Rivehn?"

_RivehnRivehnRivehn_

_Violet eyes quiet voice floating runes classroom-_

Harry brought a hand up to his head, puzzled. What in the world was that? When he turned his attention away from his head, he found those violet eyes – _Rivehn – _fixated on him. He stared back, confused.

"Do you recognize these symbols, Harry?"

He opened his mouth to say no when-

_Floating globe of light shattering glass cruciatus runes breaking symbols on test pap-_

He blinked, and whatever it was faded again, this time leaving a dull ache in his head. Why was he getting a headache?

"You are not Harry Potter. You have another name. Can you remember it?"

Harry frowned. What was Rivehn talking about? He _knew_ he was Harry Potter. Whoever else could he be?

"I'll have to ask you to stop confusing my student, Professor, and for both of you to leave immediately. If you do not, I will have the Hogwarts wards remove you from the premises." Dumbledore was more emphatic this time, and Harry turned to look at him in confusion.

"You-" the blue eyed man began, but Rivehn squeezed his shoulder and he cut himself off, shooting an angry glare at Dumbledore as if the Headmaster were the most despicable man he'd ever met. Why was he so passionate about… whatever it was that was going on?

A small smirk spread across Rivehn's face. "You may ask the school's wards to force us to leave, but it will do you no good."

The Headmaster scowled, and Harry found himself frightened at the angry visage on the normally kind man's face. "Really. And why is that, Professor?"

"Surely you realize what I am?" Rivehn looked highly unimpressed. "Perhaps the wizarding world really has degenerated to the point where the Headmaster of such a fine school, as you say, couldn't recognize a Rune Master if he was creating wards right in front of him."

"No wards you could create would fool this school's. The wards of Hogwarts were created a millennia ago by the founders, an incredibly powerful-"

"They are out of date, Headmaster. And the group of people who warded this school was not the founders. They were in fact a group of Rune Masters, most of whom I trained myself."

Harry watched as the anger on Dumbledore's face increased ten-fold, making the normally twinkling blue eyes burn the hottest fire. He couldn't help but take a step away at the magic he could feel in the room, and this magic didn't feel pleasant like Rivehn's, it felt… like worms under his skin.

Suddenly, the blue eyed man disappeared with a loud crack of displaced air, but Rivehn remained behind. The purple chains of runes that had disappeared as soon as the man _– vampire – _made them, reappeared once again. Harry watched, fascinated, as the chains began to disintegrate one at a time, but were replaced just as quickly by new chains. Behind the glow of magic, Harry could barely make out Rivehn's expression.

"You cannot force me out of these wards as you did Yankovich, Headmaster." Before Harry could react, the vampire had moved faster than he could see and had taken Harry by the arms, pulling him through the swirling chains of runes to the eye in the center, where Rivehn stood.

The violet eyes burned with power, and Harry could feel the pleasant fire of it lick along his skin, eliciting a soft sigh of pleasure as his eyes half-lidded.

"Do you not remember us, Harry?"

He frowned. "No, should I?"

"UNHAND MY STUDENT THIS INSTANT!"

Harry jerked in Rivehn's hold, turning to where he knew Dumbledore was but not being able to see the Headmaster. He turned back to Rivehn, completely confused. What was the vampire doing?

"Do not worry. While I weaved the wards to counteract Hogwarts, I activated my personal wards. No spell he casts can reach us. However, I do not wish to delay, so you must fight the compulsion he has on you."

_CompulsionsCompulsionsCompulsions_

_Gold brambles graveyard pain vines roots scars memories mind pain control mind sunk mind-_

He screamed and would have collapsed to his knees as pain split his skull in half if Rivehn hadn't been there, holding him upright. What was _happening _to him? What were these _flashes?_ Why was his headache getting worse? Was it Voldemort?

"You are hurting him! Release him at once!" Dumbledore's voice boomed, and Harry watched as the purple runes began to bend under the force of the Headmaster's attacks. Why was Dumbledore casting these spells when Harry himself was inside?

"Ignore the old fool and focus on me. Look into my eyes."

Harry met his eyes, and after a moment the vampire's eyes darkened with some sort of emotion. "Where is your mind, Obsidian? I cannot help you fight these compulsions if you don't lower your Occlumency shields."

Harry frowned. "B-but, I don't _have_ Occlumency shields. S-snape tried to teach me, and I cou-"

_Silver web graveyard shattered stone damaged node gold brambles cruciatus magic sunk-_

He screamed and tried to grip his head, but his arms couldn't move because Rivehn was holding him in place. Oh _god_ it hurt! What was happening to him?!

"You must either fight the compulsions, Cyrus Obsidian, or-"

But Harry didn't hear the rest, his eyes widening and a scream tearing out of his throat as the world disappeared into _painpainpainpainpain-_

_Black-marbled hallway, lights floating near the ceil-_

_Stone corridors and armour statues and red and-_

_Orange hair and laughing red eyes, flash of fa-_

_Bushy brown hair is this compartment tak-_

_Graveyard, covered in brambles, writhing branches and painpainpain_

_Flicking the clasp, exploding, drowning in magic, brambles growingrowingrow-_

_Sinking, sinking out of the burning fire and into coolcoolcoldcoldnumbness_

_Relief, gold dimming and fading to gray, breaking slowly into dust_

_Roots snuffed of light, fading fading, graveyard melting and web shimmering silver strings_

_Gold seed shriveling and dying web completely submerging into black_

_Peaceful, cold black…_

Awareness came to him with a snap, and he opened his eyes, the silver web in his mind's eye superimposed on his sight for a moment before fading away. Burning violet eyes were staring into his own, and he blinked. "Rivehn?" he breathed, his voice rasping and hurting and he _coughed_ and god it _hurt_.

The vampire nodded. "I am glad you are aware again, Cyrus. I was afraid the change would be… permanent."

Cyrus was about to ask what had happened when he heard Dumbledore's angry voice shouting spells. He looked around in confusion, and his head swam with the movement. He groaned and fell boneless in Rivehn's hands. The world rolled and spun as he was picked up the vampire's arms. His head lolled backwards and he choked back vomit, lifting his head and resting it upright against Rivehn's chest. That was better. He peeked his eyes open and saw the purple light show fade, but Dumbledore's spells continued to bounce off the now invisible shield.

"You are a manipulative, evil little man, and I can see why he didn't want to come back here. He knew you would do something like this to him, didn't he?" Rivehn said, and Cyrus closed his eyes as he caught sight of the fury on Dumbledore's face. Why couldn't they just leave? He didn't want to be here anymore. He buried his face into Rivehn's robes as if they would hide him from the fury of magic he could feel radiating off the Headmaster. Rivehn's aura protected him for the most part with a pleasant haze, but he could still faintly feel the worms of Dumbledore's magic writhing against his skin.

"You will return him to me this instant, Rivehn! Or I will hunt you down and make you regret ever going against me," Dumbledore bit out, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

Cyrus could feel Rivehn's chest shake slightly with his amused chuckle. "An old human dying of a flesh eating curse? I feel so very threatened," the vampire said with a cruel sarcasm Cyrus had witnessed before. "You would never have won this little game, old man. You never realized exactly what you were dealing with."

Rivehn must have done something, because Dumbledore gasped.

"_Vampire_…"

The light from beyond his eyelids disappeared behind a black curtain. After a few disorienting moments where it felt like he was falling into nothingness, the world righted itself again and a faint light warmed his closed eyelids to red.

"-mean you came back with nothing?!" Vladovich was yelling.

Cyrus moaned softly as the loud voice sent reverberations of pain through his head and buried his face farther into Rivehn's robes. Oh Merlin, he just wanted the pain to go _away_.

"It's complicated, alright?! He-"

Vladovich interrupted. "Rivehn! Finally, you're back!" There was a pause and Cyrus could hear steps growing closer. "Who the hell is this?"

"This is Cyrus Obsidian. He's wearing… a disguise."

"Oh. What's wrong with-"

"Oh shut up," Yankovich growled. "Rivehn! Is he… normal again?"

"Yes. He has returned to his senses."

"Do you think… it was like what happened… that time?"

There was a very awkward silence for a moment, and apparently even Vladovich could respect the tension that had grown in the air. "I do not think it is the same as what happened in the past, no. However… it is something similar."

The demon let out a shaking breath, and Cyrus wondered what that was about as Rivehn started walking. Before Cyrus could open his eyes and ask what was going on, he was placed gently on what felt like a couch. He curled up in a fetal position and pulled one of the large, velvet cushions on top of his face to cut out the static noise. His head still hurt as if it had been pulverized with a bludger.

He felt a tug at the cushion and held onto it more firmly.

"Cyrus-" Rivehn began, but was interrupted.

"Can _someone _tell me what the hell happened? Yankovich just popped in a minute ago, without you two, and I don't understand what's going on! Did you find out anything that could help my daughter?" Vladovich asked impatiently, and Cyrus tightened his hold on the cushion in an attempt to block out the loud voice.

"No, we did not find anything of use. D… our _source_ would not tell the information to Mr. Obsidian unless he stayed, and as he refused, we did not get any information."

"'Stayed? What are you talking about? If it could have gotten us the information, why couldn't he have just-"

"You do not understand the situation, Vladovich," Rivehn's voice snapped out, for the first time belying his ire. The room seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature. "This man activated a long term _compulsion_ in Mr. Obsidian that was so absolute his personality, memories, and behaviour were completely shifted. It was only through much luck and Obsidian's tenacity that he managed to overcome it."

There was silence for a moment before Vladovich whispered, "_What?_"

"You heard me."

"B-but, he's only a _child_. Who would…"

"You consider him a child, now? He was a _child_ when this compulsion was woven into his mind, Vladovich. That is the only way it could be so complete. Even Yankovich-" He cut himself off, and a very tense silence spread though the room. Cyrus frowned from under his cushion. 'Even Yankovich' what? Finally, Rivehn continued. "An adult would have more success fighting something like this. There would be inconsistencies. Memories and personality cannot be completely manipulated that way unless you begin when the victim is young."

Cyrus heard a thump and the creak of a chair. "I… I had no idea that this would…"

"None of us did, Vladovich," Yankovich finally said, his voice quiet and bitter. "If we had, we wouldn't have gone."

There was silence for a moment before Rivehn spoke again. "If you are done bickering and questioning, I will begin the arduous task of bringing Obsidian's mind to rights."

The cushion was yanked off Cyrus's head and he moaned, covering his eyes with a hand to block out the light that sent prickles shooting through his head. It _hurt_. When a hand touched his shoulder, he flinched and tried to get away.

"Breath, Cyrus. Slow, deep breaths," the tenor soothed, and Cyrus obeyed, having not realized he was so close to hyperventilating. He relaxed when a cool cloth was gently laid on his forehead, sighing in relief as the pain was dulled a fraction. His mind was still a fucking mess, and his brain felt like it had been boiled like an egg. _After_ thorough shaking.

"Are you still aware, Cyrus?"

He 'hmm'ed and tried to nod his head, but stopped when the pain increased at the movement.

"You seem to be in a great deal of pain. I am… sorry I was unable to keep my promise."

Cyrus frowned. Promise? He thought about it. Oh right, protection. "S'okay. Got out… in th'end."

"Nevertheless, I wish to help you repair the damage. I am experienced in mind magics, as well as healings."

"Okay," Cyrus croaked. He tried to clear out some of the fuzz between his ears with no success. Speaking was hard enough, and his throat felt sore. Had he been screaming? He couldn't remember… it was all so confused. He forced his eyes open and took a breath to try to quell the nausea as the ceiling tilted and swirled above them.

Rivehn made a thoughtful noise. "Can you send your shadows for some food and water?" he asked someone softly.

"Of course," Yankovich said, and Cyrus could hear a snap of fingers. He craned his neck curiously and saw three black blobs draw themselves out of the ambient shadows in the room. Cyrus watched, fascinated, as Yankovich ordered them around in that other language. One by one, they vanished back into the shadows once again.

"What… those?" Cyrus asked curiously around his too-thick tongue. He winced as he heard his own voice crack.

"Yankovich is a shadow demon. He can control shades, which are a form of lesser demon," Rivehn explained softly, putting the cloth back on Cyrus's forehead as it had fallen off.

One shadow reappeared, its blob-like 'hands' holding a glass of water. Yankovich picked it up and handed it to Rivehn, who helped Cyrus sit upright enough to take a few drinks from it. Cyrus smiled dopily from the pain and said, "Thanks for being so nice."

The vampire stared down at him with a blank expression. Cyrus closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at it. What the vampire helping him because he felt guilty or because he cared? The logical part of his brain said the former, but… the other part of him wished it were the latter. Rivehn was a cool teacher, and… Cyrus pushed his confused thoughts from his mind. He didn't want to be thinking such heavy thoughts when he felt like his brain was about to ooze from between his ears.

There _was_ something that had been nagging at him for a while, though. "Professor Rivehn?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed.

"Yes?" the vampire asked, helping him to take another sip of water.

"Are you and Yankovich… together?"

Rivehn snorted softly, and Cyrus opened his eyes in surprise. "We haven't been together in two hundred years."

Cyrus was confused. "Then why did you…" he blushed at the memory of Rivehn and Yankovich making out against the wall.

"That is not something I am care to share with a student, Mr. Obsidian," Rivehn said smoothly as he moved the human back into to lying down. Cyrus nodded and averted his eyes. "Now, we must heal your mind before the damage becomes permanent. I will heal the physical damage first, and then we will move on to your mind." Rivehn placed a hand on Cyrus's forehead and the human sighed as the pain eased from 'my-brain-just-got-pulverized-on-an-anvil' to 'who-hit-that-bludger?' with a gentle surge of healing magic. He 'mmm'ed softly and tilted his head into the touch.

"How… do you heal a mind?" Cyrus asked. At least now he could think a little clearer.

"It depends on the nature of the damage. If you are concerned that I will be perusing your memories, I assure you that is not the case."

Cyrus swallowed before nodding slowly. He stared up at Rivehn for a few moments, waiting for instructions or the vampire to say something.

"Obsidian, I have tried enter your mind before. I couldn't then, and I cannot now. Would you care to drop your shields?" the vampire asked, a hint of amusement curling his lips.

"Er, sorry." Closing his eyes, Cyrus sank into his magic in search of his mind. He found it open and floating halfway in his magic and halfway underneath, right on the edge of his death magic. It was difficult to move the bulky structure without compressing it into a ball again, but he managed after a few moments. It sank into the space it normally occupied like a water balloon, shifting around and hitting the 'walls' before finally stilling. He opened his eyes and looked at Rivehn. "It's there now." He wished he could get that water, his voice was still rough and sore.

The vampire raised one eyebrow before his eyes half-lidded in concentration. The other eyebrow went up when he apparently found what he was looking for. "Very well. Meet me inside."

Cyrus closed his eyes and the world fell away. The next thing he knew, they were in the graveyard. He could see some of the damage in gaping tears in the ground, and fractures in the headstones and trees, but he knew most of it was superficial damage. The largest scar would be wherever that giant golden _seed_ he remembered was.

Rivehn was looking around curiously. "This is your mind? It's rather… simple. Most often occluded minds are mazes or castles, or another structure that allows for intruders to get lost."

Cyrus rubbed the back of his hair sheepishly. "Well, I didn't exactly learn Occlumency the normal way."

Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "No? How do you protect your mind if you don't have shields? At least, any shields that I can find. Unless they were destroyed… earlier."

Cyrus shook his head. "No shields. Sn- Severus couldn't get me to learn Occlumency no matter what he did, so eventually I had to get creative."

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "Care to share?"

"Y-yes, of course," he murmured, letting the colours and tombstones melt away into nothing but empty space and the elaborate silver web. He didn't know how to talk like this, but he could see Rivehn as a purple ball of light, and it was spinning around and through his web with apparent curiosity. He felt Rivehn touch a few of the nodes and the connecting threads, and Cyrus shuddered as he felt the touch. It was… uncomfortable. Especially since he was still in pain. He stayed where he was, waiting for Rivehn to finish his apparent exploration.

After quite some time, the purple light finally came back and floated in front of him. When he didn't hear or 'hear' anything, he brought them back to the graveyard.

"Sorry, were you trying to say something?" Cyrus asked.

Rivehn was staring at him. "Show me how you occlude. Or, protect your mind."

The human blinked and shrugged. "Okay." He bled out the colours again and exited the web, the purple light following him. Once he was on the edge of the web, he 'reached' out and started compressing it into a ball. Once he had it as small as it would go, he hit the 'clasp' and it stayed locked. He dropped it into his magic and followed it as it floated into his core. The purple light followed him. He grabbed the web again before it could go to far, and dragged it back up to the empty space. Once there, he unclasped it and the web sprung back into place. He changed the scenery back to the graveyard.

Rivehn stood across from him, a very odd look on his face. It almost looked… pensive.

Cyrus got concerned. "What, is there something wrong? Am I going to go insane or something one day? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Rivehn finally blinked and let his lips twitch upwards slightly in amusement. "You are something else, Cyrus Obsidian." When Cyrus just stared at him in incomprehension, he continued, "You are what is known as _infractus mens. _It's Latin for 'broken mind'. It's a condition that occurs most often in minds that are _very_ young and underdeveloped. This… disability can be caused by numerous factors. It could be caused by improper use of magic on a child, or an accomplished legilimens. It can also be caused by traumatic experiences during the child's earliest years. The amount of trauma would have to be substantial, however, for this kind of damage.

"Every mind takes on a different metaphysical structure and appearance as a direct result of the trauma. Yours happens to be a web. I've seen a few of these minds over the years, one of them was completely made of a substance that mimicked water, and another never completely adapted to the condition and grew up mentally disabled. He was incapable of all but the most simple of functions.

"You, however, have not only adapted to the web-structure your mind has formed, but it now works to your advantage. Whereas before it would be easy for a legilimens to rifle through your memories, with your mind hidden in your magic, so to speak, it is completely protected as long as you have magic in your core."

At this point, Rivehn's hands were moving expressively through the air, his eyes glittering slightly with academic passion. The vampire's face was more animated than Cyrus had ever seen it. "It's fascinating, really. As a result of the trauma, you have an incredibly strong magical connection, and a very strong grasp of wandless magic. However, one of the limitations of such a mind is that you will never be able to organize your thoughts like an occlumens, so you will never be able to manipulate your mind to remember things more easily by cataloguing the information."

Cyrus stared at the vampire lost in his thoughts, a ball of iron sinking to the bottom of his stomach. He wasn't sure what to think about _that_. He supposed… there were pros and cons to every situation. He'd been functioning just fine so far, so what was the problem? There wasn't a problem. At least, not yet.

And then curiosity got the better of him. "So, what do you think may have caused my… unique circumstances?"

Rivehn made a thoughtful sound. "I would think it was the casting of the Avada Kedavra on you as a child, or Dumbledore's mind snare. It depends on how young you were when he cast the magic on you." His brow furrowed into a scowl. "It could also be a combination of both."

Cyrus frowned. "So, am I going to go crazy or not?"

The vampire looked taken aback before he actually chuckled. "You are in no way mentally unstable, Obsidian. Your mind has been settled in this state for many years. It would not cause psychosis of any kind."

The human sighed in relief. "Well. That's good. How do we go about healing the damage, though? Is it different than healing someone else's mind?"

Rivehn looked thoughtful. "It may be. It depends on how your web responds to the healing. It may respond well to your methods and badly to mine, or it may accept my healing more easily than your own. We won't know until we try. Can you emulate movement of magic merely by watching, or do you require me to explain the process to you?"

Cyrus blinked. "Um, well, how about you just show me, and if I don't get it we'll come back here and you can try to explain it?"

The vampire nodded, and made a 'go on' motion with his hand. Cyrus nodded and the world faded around them.

He wasn't sure how long they spent healing each and every fracture and gash in his mind, but with both of them doing the work, it probably only took three hours instead of six. By the time they were done, his stomach was calling him back to the real world.

Yankovich was sitting alone in the room, a book in hand, when they came out of it.

Rivehn sat back in his armchair and glanced around the room. He frowned. "Where is Vladovich?"

Yankovich looked up from his book with a scowl. "We had another fight. But he refuses to leave until we've come to a decision regarding our next course of action."

The vampire just shook his head. "That is no surprise."

"Yeah. Well. How'd it go?" the demon asked, changing the subject.

The corners of Rivehn's lips curled slightly in satisfaction. "He's an _infractus mens, _I'll have you know. It was no simple matter to heal all the damage."

Yankovich's eyebrows rose. "That's what that web is? I wondered about that. However, I don't make it a habit to go poking around in other people's heads, but I was sure _you_ would know what it was." When Rivehn shot him an annoyed look, the demon just smirked. "Food?"

Rivehn's ire faded. "Please."

The demon waved his hand and two trays of food floated towards them, along with a bottle and a wine glass. Rivehn's eyebrows rose at the sight. "You still have _Talgrise?_ You haven't sold it yet?"

Yankovich shrugged. "I figured there might be another vampire I could offer it to as refreshment. Magic-infused faerie blood is hard to come by, after all. It wasn't like I needed the money." The silence was slightly uncomfortable as Yankovich levitated one of the trays to Cyrus, who at this point had sat up and removed the cold compress from his forehead. He muttered a soft 'thank you' and dug in. He was ravenous.

He tried to ignore the awkward silence that settled in the room for a few minutes before Vladovich came back and thankfully shattered it.

"Well? Have you come to a decision yet?" the demon asked, throwing himself down in one of the plush armchairs.

Yankovich scowled, looking up from his food. "No. In fact, we haven't even discussed it yet, as _you_ ran away like a child throwing a tantrum."

Rivehn sipped his _Talgrise_.

Vladovich glared. "It was pointless trying to talk to you before. I was hoping with Rivehn back in the real world, you would be less likely to pick a fight, _brother_."

Yankovich opened his mouth to shoot off another insult, probably, but Rivehn interrupted. "Yankovich, enough. His daughter, your niece, is in danger. Decide what you're going to do so I can get back to my life and work. I do not have any more patience for your petty arguments."

The demon snapped his mouth shut and glared at Rivehn, who seemed completely unaffected. Cyrus glanced curiously back and forth between the two. Rivehn had said that they hadn't been together in two hundred years_._ That was a long time to be having a… fight. He wondered what separated them in the first place… And if they often engaged in angry… um, well. He blushed in embarrassment at the thought and turned his attention back to his food.

"Fine. We are running out of options. If we can't kill him right now, we are going to have to give in to his demands." He glared darkly at the wall, fists clenched on the arms of the chair he was sitting in. "I hate acquiescing to a _human_ like this. I hate feeding the ego of that…" He muttered something darkly in the gutteral language that had the drink that Vladovich had poured for himself spraying out of his mouth.

Rivehn looked amused. "You always had a way with words."

Cyrus couldn't help but think of the other way the vampire could have said that. 'You always had a talented mouth,' repeated like a broken record in his mind in Rivehn's smooth tenor, and he couldn't stop the blush that heated his face when the image of the vampire holding Yankovich against the wall flashed through his mind… again. Was he ever going to be able to look at these two again and not think of that sinfully hot kiss??

"So what are you going to do then? Give him his army?" Vladovich asked.

Yankovich leaned back in his chair with an angry breath and waved the decanter sitting by Vladovich over to him, along with a glass with wandless magic. He poured himself a drink as he spoke. "The Guild refused to help him last time. I'm not sure if they'd be willing to rescind their decision, even though one of their own has now been threatened. I don't have the sheer volume of death magic that is required for raising the number of zombies he specified, so I will have to bring it before the council."

Vladovich didn't look happy. "And if they refuse?"

The necromancy teacher drank from his glass thoughtfully. After a moment, he looked at Cyrus. The human blinked and stared back. "If they refuse, I have enough dirt on two of them to blackmail them into helping, and if we take full advantage of our assets, we should have no problem."

Vladovich frowned, confused. "I don't understand. Assets?"

A slow smirk spread across Yankovich's face, and he was still staring at Cyrus. The human felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise ominously. "We have ourselves a death magic battery, why not use it?"

Cyrus blinked. "Are you talking about me?"

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "Who else has the power to nearly destroy half of Switzerland? There's a reason I'm going to be giving you lessons in control."

Cyrus stared. "And who's to say I want to be your battery?"

The demon raised an eyebrow. "If you don't do as I say, I will tell every person in this school that you are Harry Potter, and I will tell the wizarding world where you are."

His jaw dropped open. "That's blackmail!"

Yankovich shrugged. "So?"

Vladovich blinked and looked back and forth between Yankovich and Cyrus. "He's Harry Potter? Marianna mentioned his disappearance a few months ago."

Cyrus was paying more attention to Yankovich. "You could have just asked me! You didn't have to blackmail me!"

The demon just shrugged again and took a sip of his scotch. "Yes, I could have. But you could have said no. This way, I've guaranteed your co-operation."

Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest and glowered, unimpressed.

"When will you be leaving for the meeting?" Rivehn asked.

Yankovich hummed thoughtfully to himself. "It's almost midnight, and while a few of the Guild are night owls, most keep somewhat regular hours. I'll send out a notice and schedule the meeting for early in the morning. Probably seven, so I'll catch the night owls going to sleep and the others waking up." He reached into his robes and frowned. Realization crossed his face and he looked at Rivehn. "Can I borrow your magi-com? I left mine in my office."

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "You left it there on purpose, didn't you?" he asked, reaching into his own robes and pulling out a small object that he tossed to Yankovich.

"Guilty," the demon said as he opened what looked like a… phone?

Rivehn looked amused. "You're texting them to set up an important meeting?"

Yankovich snorted. "We have a code, Rivehn. And when I send the message, I'll use a top priority notice. They'll be there on time."

Cyrus just couldn't get over the fact that demons had apparently copied muggle technology. "Since when do demons have phones?" he couldn't help but ask.

Rivehn's lip twitched in amusement. "It's all the rage, apparently. Why invent a different form of communication when non-magical humans have come up with a brilliant solution? They adapted a magical version of telecommunications a few years ago, but it hasn't really hit off until recently. There are a lot of old-fashioned demons, vampires, and other species that are nonconformist. They stubbornly stand by mirror, water, and fire communication instead."

Cyrus stared. "And why do you have a phone?"

"All teachers at Shikaan must have one. It makes it easier for the Headmistress to contact us for meetings or in the event of emergencies during our time off."

"How does it work with the whole… alternate dimension thing?"

"The demon inventors who created the magi-coms worked around that. There are what you could call… towers, that transfer the signal between Human Realm and Other Realm."

Cyrus frowned. "Why call it 'Other Realm'?"

Rivehn looked amused. "Aren't you full of questions. The demons wanted it named after them, and most of the other species felt the same way. They couldn't decide on any other name."

Cyrus shook his head in disbelief. How had he never noticed before? Was he really that unobservant?

"Anyway, you should be going, Obsidian. You need to get some sleep before tomorrow's raising," Yankovich said, pouring himself more scotch after he tossed the magi-com back to Rivehn. "Meet me at my classroom tomorrow morning at 6:30. I'm planning to meet with a few people before the meeting."

Cyrus nodded, stood, and put his tray on one of the nearby tables. He kept his mouth stubbornly silent, as he was still mad at Yankovich for forcing to do something he didn't want to… Again. What was it with this family taking advantage of him?

Before he could apparate out, Vladovich intercepted him. When the demon held out his hand, Cyrus stared at it in incomprehension. The demon spoke, not discouraged by his lack of understanding. "I wanted to apologize for what happened to you, Obsidian was it? I appreciate that you were willing to help my daughter."

Cyrus stared at the hand for a few more moments before cautiously taking it. Vladovich's grip was firm, but not tight or uncomfortable. He nodded jerkily in acknowledgement of the thanks before changing his appearance back to Cyrus Obsidian and disapparating.

_oOo_

Tara was in his room when he appeared next to his bed, and he nearly let out a groan at the sight of her. He wanted to go to _bed_. Why couldn't the world just bugger off for a few hours? He wanted sleep.

"Cyrus! Finally. I've been in and out of here for the past couple of hours waiting for you," she complained, hands planting themselves on her hips.

The human glared at her, feeling all his annoyance over all the shit that had happened that day bubble to the surface. "Well _sorry_," he began sarcastically, "but not all of our lives revolve around _your_ schedule. I've been through a lot of shit today, and I really don't want to deal with your fucking attitude, too!"

Tara looked ready to explode. "Well you're not the only one with a lot of shit happening right now! So stop being so goddamned selfish!" At this point she was in his face and hissing.

She slammed him against the wall and he'd just _had enough_. With a burst of wandless magic, he sent her flying off of him and brought out both his wands. He was casting spells before he knew what the fuck he was thinking, thankfully having enough frame of mind not to aim at his less-used bookshelves. They still had some important stuff on them even though they weren't part of his mother's collection, which was in his trunk.

Tara hissed, eyes glowing red. Before she could attack him again, Cyrus cast the full-body bubble spell that protected him from all attacks as long as he had the power to fuel it. Just in time, apparently, because Tara threw herself at him and sent them both crashing into the wall. She punched at his shield and he threw her off with a spell from his death wand. The power of it sent her crashing into his kitchen. When she'd pulled herself out of the destroyed cold box, she looked pissed, but didn't attack him again. He glared back stubbornly, staying in a defensible position. If she wanted to kick his ass, he bet she could do it, but it would take her a while to get through his shield spell, and he _knew_ he had more magic than she did. He'd been casting wandless spells for a month without any obvious fatigue, and Yankovich himself had called Cyrus a battery of death magic. The amount of his death magic was directly equal to that of his normal magic, so he bet he had quite a bit than was normal for a human.

Tara pulled herself to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. She glared at him hotly for a few seconds before shaking her head and relaxing her posture slightly. Cyrus watched cautiously as she uncrossed her arms and threw herself onto the chair that hadn't been destroyed.

"Alright. I shouldn't have freaked out on you. I've been under a lot of stress lately. But if you're waiting for an apology, you're going to be waiting a long time," she bit out stubbornly.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Alright. So what brings you to my corner of the world?"

"I need you to come to another meeting at Shelby's Blood Bath."

The human frowned and remained standing, not bothering to take down his full body shield as he sheathed his wands. He'd take it off later. "When?"

"Tomorrow night."

Cyrus snorted. "Well, I can't do tomorrow night."

Tara's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean you can't do it? What the hell are you doing on a Saturday that means you can't come? I _need_ you to come to this meeting, Cyrus. There is no 'I can't come'."

"Are you not hearing the words coming out of my mouth? 'I can't be there' means _I can't be there._"

"I don't think you understand the severity of this situation, Cyrus."

"What situation? You haven't told me a fucking thing since you came in this room. You threw a fit because I have a _life_, started making demands, and then got pissed off at me when I told you I can't do it. You haven't told me a single. Fucking. Thing. About this so called 'situation'. So enlighten me, Tara. What is this situation that is so very 'severe'." There was so much sarcasm layering his words he wouldn't be surprised if he could scrape it off with a butter knife and put it on his toast.

"You remember Dalesh, right?"

Oh right. Shit. "What about him?"

"_Akkad_, his vampire clan, has been making enquiries and doing some investigation during Christmas. They wanted to find out why one of the direct descendants of Akkad died the way he did. If he were anything but a direct descendant, they would have just left it alone as a blood feud, but as it is… I've been approached and questioned about it, and they want to question you as well."

"Fuck." Cyrus ran a hand through his hair and glared at the wall. "How serious is it? Are they going to kill us or something?"

Tara bit her lip. "Well, I don't know. I'm a vampire of the Bast clan, so they have to take it up in court if they want my head. You on the other hand… are only under the protection I can provide you, as you are my donor. If you were to die in an 'unfortunate accident'…" She stopped right there.

The human snorted. "So, you're saying I could be completely fucked? Why the hell didn't you mention this sooner?"

Tara scowled. "Because I didn't think they were going to involve you when I last saw you. But today I was contacted and… well, they want to question you."

Cyrus threw himself down on his bed, tired of standing. "Question me about what? What am I supposed to say?"

"The truth. They're trained at what they do, Cyrus, and they _will_ be able to tell when you lie. If you tell the truth, they have less reason to kill you."

Cyrus started cursing under his breath. What… "What the hell are they looking for? Didn't you have plenty of reason to kill him? I mean, not to bring up bad memories, but he insinuated that he had a part in the death of your girlfriend, and he threatened to kill me."

She nodded. "And normally that would be enough for the clans to sweep it under the rug, but he's of Akkad blood."

"So what, they could just decide that it's not a suitable enough reason and kill us both?"

Tara frowned. "Well, they could kill you whenever they wanted. But like I said before, they'd have to take it up in court in order to get the right to execute me."

Cyrus felt like tearing out his hair. "This is ridiculous! How the hell do we get out of this situation?"

"Prove that there was sufficient reason for Dalesh's death."

"And how do we do that?"

"Prove he killed Amelia."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Didn't they do an official investigation on that? Didn't they find anything?"

Tara scowled. "They had no idea who was involved last time. No evidence. Now we have reason to believe Dalesh was involved, and if he _was_ involved, then it's likely that someone he knows was also a culprit."

"Well, why don't you tell these _Akkad_ investigators that? They could look into the death and…" He trailed off as she shook her head.

"The Akkad investigators would never look into something that would sabotage someone from their own clan. They'd be more likely to cover it up. The onus falls to the outside clan affected to look into that kind of information. But who knows if the Bast clan investigators will be able to find anything to prevent our execution…"

Cyrus scowled. "Well, it wouldn't hurt to try. And we can help, right?"

She frowned. "As long as we didn't tamper with evidence. If we _found_ the evidence, it could still be valid. We would have our memories to protect our authenticity, and the validity of the evidence. It's a tricky line to walk, though."

Cyrus ran a hand over his face. This was too much to deal with right now. He… he had Voldemort to think of, the niece, Yankovich black-mailing him, Dumbledore mind fucking him… Did it never end? Why did all this have to happen at once? It was… it was just too much. He felt like his brain was going to explode.

"So, as you can see, I need you to come with me tomorrow."

Cyrus was already shaking his head even before she finished. "I already told you, I can't. Tomorrow, er, 'today' if you take into account that it's after midnight," he said, rubbing his eyes, "has already been bought by Yankovich. I've been black-mailed into servitude."

Tara frowned. "Well, can't you get out of it? This is really important! Tell him to reschedule."

Cyrus shook his head. "Are they going to kill us tomorrow if I can't make it?"

She paused. "Unlikely."

"And are there any other lives at risk if I don't make the meeting tomorrow?"

"… No."

"Then they can fucking reschedule. It's none of your or their business what Yankovich and I are doing tomorrow, but if we don't do it a little girl is going to get her hand cut off. Got it? So they can reschedule to Sunday, or something. Because tomorrow, or today, or what-the-fuck-ever doesn't work!" He angrily scrubbed at his scalp. God. He needed to take a shower. He felt like shit, and it was only fueling his discomfort and anger at the whole fucked up situation he was in. It was times like these he wished he smoked… or something.

Tara bit her lip as she watched him get up and pace for a moment before going over to his half-destroyed kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. He chugged it.

"When will you be in tomorrow night?" Tara finally asked.

Cyrus put the glass down. "I have no clue. Maybe dinner time, maybe midnight. I have no idea how long this is going to take. Why?"

"I need a feeding."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "What? Already? It hasn't quite been a week yet."

She scowled. "Well, you're not going to make the meeting, and I'm tired and cranky. Your blood has the highest magical content, so it gets me on my feet faster than my other donors, and I really need the shot of 'caffeine' at the moment." She started massaging her temples as if to stave off a headache. "And if I get into a fight with the investigators, I want to be in top form."

The human let out an annoyed breath and popped one of the blood replenishers out of his potions bracelet. "Okay, how much do you need exactly?" Tara wasn't the only one low on energy, and Cyrus _really_ didn't want to be feeling like shit tomorrow.

"A little more than usual, but not so much you'll notice it."

He nodded tersely and tilted his head to the side and frowned as she sank her fangs into his neck and started feeding. When he grew out of his current armour, he was getting Flander to design a new outfit that went up his neck. As it was, vampires had far too easy access. But then, ever since he'd worked out this… symbiotic relationship with Tara, he hadn't had any vampires sneaking into his rooms for a midnight snack, or drinking his blood in the hallways. Apparently Tara was a vampire you didn't want to piss off, and if you took into consideration the fact that she was actually graduated from Shikaan and studying with three different masters… well. He was glad that he'd managed to manipulate her into taking him on as her donor. He just hoped that she wouldn't be running out of books to read in his trunk any time soon, or at least until he was more confident in defending himself.

Maybe he could get Yankovich to teach him that life-sucking thing he'd done to Vladovich's vines. That would be a useful defense…

Finally, Tara finished feeding and the pleasant haze disappeared, leaving Cyrus feeling very drowsy and dizzy. He almost dropped the replenisher on the ground trying to get the lid off, but Tara was there and watched with a careful eye as she helped direct the vial to Cyrus's mouth. He swallowed the potion and instantly felt a little better, but still tired and a bit dizzy.

"Tara, I dunno if I'm gonna be able to stand straight," he mumbled, blinking slowly and staring into her red eyes.

She frowned. "Sorry, I took a little more than I should have. The blood replenisher's taken care of the red blood cells, but you need some sugar and nutrients. You might want to consider getting a potion for that."

"I have a potion for that… somewhere." He looked at his potions bracelet and turned it around until he found the green one. He pressed it and the vial popped out. He took off the lid and downed it. He'd decided that nutrient/energy potions were an important thing to have in case he found himself without any food for days, so he'd bought some during his last potions trip to Gemini Square.

He should ask Snape if he could brew Cyrus's potions for him. It would probably be cheaper than going to a middle man.

Cyrus started stripping out of his armour without bothering to check if Tara had left. He was so out of it, he probably wouldn't have noticed if a pink rhino had taken up residence in his room. He left the clothes on the floor and crawled into bed, taking his bubble shield down. Merlin, was he tired. He barely remembered to set his alarm before falling unconscious.

It had been such a shitty day, and tomorrow, or 'today', wasn't going to be any better.

_-Toki Mirage-_

Lots of shit hitting the fan in this chapter. If you haven't read the little note at the start of the story, go check it out.

And I'm never writing stuff out of chronological order again. . Editing this chapter was annoying and took forever, even though I like how the Dumbledore scene turned out. I swear I edited it 3 times to make Roos happy, and then to make it all it all cohesive every time I changed something. X.x

Roos: Anything I say, goes. (cracks whip) I'm a demanding Mistress. (laughs)

Yay! I have reached over 2,000 reviews! (celebrates) Woot! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing and otherwise showing your support for this story! : )

Chapter 14 is going to be the confrontation with Voldemort, or the _beginning_ of the confrontation with Voldy depending on how long the scene goes for, for those of you who have been anticipating the clash.

Oh, and I've started posting BS on affdotnet, just so I won't have to do it all at once later. Please note! Nothing has changed from this version yet, and when a chapter is different, I will provide you with the proper link at the beginning of the chapter! :) – It was really annoying figuring out how to post with font types and stuff on aff. Thank god ffdotnet lets you get copies of your stuff in html in document manager. Otherwise I'd be sooo screwed. (phew)

Thanks for reading!

_Edit Aug 16/09 – Clarified a bit of the legal procedure concerning Tara and Cyrus._


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Necromancer's Guild

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

**WARNING:** This chapter contains content that may turn the stomachs of some readers. If graphic, non-consensual sexual acts squick you, you may wish to stop reading this story. Or scroll through the questionable parts. Please be reminded that this _is_ a story Rated for Mature audiences.

_oOo_

Chapter Fourteen:

_oOo_

"I was beginning to think you'd be late," Yankovich said when Cyrus finally arrived at his classroom.

Cyrus frowned and cast a tempus charm. Two minutes early. "I was double checking that I have everything I need."

Yankovich raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed. "And what exactly do you need to prepare? I'm the one doing all the _real _work."

The human gave him a look. "We're going to be seeing Voldemort today. I've planned for everything I can think of." He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole 'giving Voldy his army thing'. On one hand, they were saving a girl's life. On the other, many more people were probably going to die. He scowled. "I really do hate that I'm helping Voldemort of all scumbags," he muttered under his breath.

Yankovich snorted. "Oh, we're not helping him as much as you think."

Cyrus frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Patience. You'll find out soon enough. Why are you wearing your armor? Are you particularly paranoid today, or is there another reason?"

The human scowled. "Voldemort is a back-stabbing bastard. I doubt everything is going to go smoothly and according to plan."

The demon made a dismissive noise. "I'm going to side-along us, alright?" he asked, unconcerned. Cyrus frowned, but nodded, and the demon's hand landed on the human's shoulder. They disappeared with a squeezing sensation.

When equilibrium returned, Cyrus couldn't help but stare at his surroundings. The building they were in was huge and looked like it must have been built during the Roman Empire. Either that or someone did a really good job copying the architecture.

Yankovich had started walking as soon as they appeared, so Cyrus hurried to catch up with him, eyes wide and curious as he tried to take in as much of his surroundings as possible. They passed many doors as they walked down the high-ceilinged hallway, some of them open and some closed. He peeked inside some to see classes, and others seemed to be full of nothing but piles of papers and arguing people.

Finally, they reached the large set of doors at the end of the hallway, and two more halls broke off to the left and the right. Yankovich turned around to look at him. "This is the library. I want you to keep yourself entertained until I come and get you."

Cyrus nodded cautiously and watched as the demon walked down the left hallway without another word. Cyrus glanced after the demon before looking the other way. He was in a T-shaped hallway, with the library doors in the middle. The two smaller hallways that broke off from the main one they had just walked down appeared to be smaller and shorter. He could see a few people milling about, but either most people weren't up so early in the morning, or there weren't that many necromancers in the world.

With a shrug, he slipped inside the doors and nearly gaped at the sight before him. The library was _huge_. Actually, huge didn't even begin to cover it. He looked up and saw the ceiling. It looked almost like a hole had been punched through all the floors, letting you see every one of them. He could count… seven floors. Seven bloody floors of books at his disposal, and he had no idea where to start. Heading over to what looked like 'the counter', he spotted a girl with multiple piercings and tattoos sitting behind it, writing furiously on a sheet of paper. An open book sat next to the paper, and he could see her look back and forth between them a few times before she went back to writing.

Cautiously walking forward, he glanced around himself to see if there was anyone in the immediate vicinity. He could see a couple people sitting at desks in the middle of the circular library, but aside from them he saw no one else. By the time he was done looking, his feet had carried him to the desk.

"Excuse me, miss, but could you provide me with a… map of some sorts, of the different sections of the library?"

She looked up from her writing impatiently, reaching under her desk for something. She scrambled around blindly for a moment before having to get off her stool to look for it with her eyes. After a few more seconds, she popped back up again from behind the desk. She shoved a piece of paper in his face. "Have nice day," she said in a heavily accented voice before proceeding to ignore him again.

Cyrus blinked and looked down at the sheet. Well, he'd gotten what he came for at least. Taking a quick glance over the subjects (not all of them were related to necromancy in any way that he could see), he decided that he was indeed going to go with the necromancy section, which happened to take up most of the top floor. As he started looking for the stairs, he wondered why they put them way up there when the entire building was for _necromancers_.

When he finally reached the top floor, he saw three more people than he'd seen on the bottom floor, which added up to a total of six. He frowned. Was he here during a not-so-busy time? Or was this place usually nearly deserted?

He wandered over to the 'soul' necromancy section. After hearing how Malfoy Sr. had met his not-so-unfortunate end, he'd been curious. How did one rip the soul out of a living person? And how had Yankovich done that life-sucking thing? Even if Cyrus didn't learn how to do it from these books, it would still be interesting to know. He pulled out one title at a time, making sure that a gap was left so he could put it back in the same spot. He wasn't sure how they worked the whole librarian thing here, but he didn't want to pull out a bunch of books to find out _he_ had to put them back, and then have no idea how the sorting system worked. That would be… tedious. And he needed to be ready to leave whenever Yankovich got back.

He must have been reading the same book, having found an interesting section, for nearly an hour when a tap on his shoulder startled him into dropping the book. He caught it with his magic before it could hit the floor while turning his head to see who had disrupted his bubble of personal space. He mentally cussed to himself. He needed to be more aware of his surroundings. If he didn't figure out how to sense people soon, he was going to get a knife through the chest.

As the book floated back into his hands, he examined the face of the person whose eyes were trained on the book. Was wandless magic in this place abnormal or what?

"Can I help you?" Cyrus asked succinctly, annoyed that this person had both made him loose his page _and_ managed to sneak up on him.

The guy smiled, and Cyrus blinked at the sheer… whiteness of it all. Had this guy cast reflective spells on his teeth, or what? Cyrus looked up from the glaring white to a pair of ice blue eyes with a darker ring around the edge of the iris. The guy's wavy black hair, cut to shoulder length, seemed to have a mind of its own. Whether it was as wild as Cyrus's own hair by nature, or the guy styled it that way, Cyrus had no clue. What he _did_ know was that this guy probably turned female heads no matter where he went.

"I just noticed that you're an unfamiliar face, and I wanted to know if you were a new apprentice." His warm baritone sent a tingle racing up Cyrus's spine, and blood rushed to his face as he recognized the feeling.

Oh god no.

"My name's Ashawyn. Ashawyn Thalla." The guy held out his hand.

Cyrus blinked and looked down at the proffered limb. Moving on autopilot, he gripped it and shook, trying to ignore the heat that spread through his arm at the contact, even though the guy's hand was cold. "Cyrus Obsidian."

Ashawyn smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Cyrus. May I? Call you Cyrus, that is?"

"Um, sure. Cyrus is fine, Ashawyn."

"Perfect! So, who's your Master, Cyrus? If I may ask?" The guy was so congenial it was off putting.

"Well," Cyrus began awkwardly, "I don't have a Master yet. I'm only in my first year at Shikaan."

Black eyebrows rose as ice blue eyes looked him up and down, bringing a flush to Cyrus's face as well as sending another tingle up his spine. Maybe he was getting a fever…

"You don't look like a first year at Shikaan. You look old enough to be graduating."

Cyrus smiled hesitantly. What do you say to that, exactly? "Thanks?" The guy laughed. Cyrus mentally scrambled for a way to change the subject. "So, who's your Master? And how old are you?"

"Mikhail. He's one of the more powerful and old necromancers. And I'm 22-years-old. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Two dark eyebrows rose again. "Oh my, you are young." He smiled, as if to convey that he didn't mean anything by it. Cyrus returned it and tried to ignore him by searching for his lost page. He wasn't sure how long Ashawyn was planning on sticking around, but Cyrus hoped he would leave soon. He felt so awkward around the man…

"I've read that one front to back, what section are you looking for?"

Cyrus blinked and looked up from the book. Ashawyn had moved right into his space, and was peering over his shoulder at the book. Cyrus could feel a chill, instead of the usual body heat a person would give off. He frowned. How odd. So it wasn't just cold hands. He kick started his brain to answer the question. "Um, the section about ancient blood rituals and how they were used to increase the power of death magic in order to complete a raising."

Ashawyn took the book from his hands and started flipping. "Oh, that's interesting. Yes, they used to think sacrifices were necessary in order to raise the dead from the ground. They also thought that it needed to be at a certain time of night. It wasn't until Yenna of Lockshire Hill accidentally raised a graveyard behind a church in broad daylight that they realized this wasn't true. Of course, they ended up killing Yenna because they thought he was monstrous. Or it was because he was too powerful for them, and they were jealous. As there are no eyewitness accounts or journals left behind, it is mostly through speculation and supposition that we have pieced together Yenna's tragic death. Ah, here. This is the page." He handed it back with a smile, and Cyrus couldn't help but be dazzled by the knowledge of this man.

"Wow. You certainly know a lot about Yenna."

Ashawyn chuckled, abashed, reaching back with one hand to ruffle his hair nervously. "Well, really it's just that I know a little bit about everything. I prefer it that way, in comparison to studying deeply only one topic. If you have a broader band of knowledge, you know where to look for the stuff you _really_ need."

Cyrus nodded. That made sense. "What else do you know about Yenna?" Picking a person's brain was, after all, far more interesting than reading the monotonous, old writing of scholars hundreds of years old.

"Well… Rumor has it that he came back from the dead the first time the Neromancer's Council of the time killed him."

Cyrus's eyebrows shot up. "Rumor? Really? Do you think it actually happened?"

"Well, there's evidence pointing in both directions, so no one really knows. It is speculated, however, that someone with enough death magic could avoid death altogether. It's never been proven, though."

Cyrus made a thoughtful noise. Voldemort would love to get his hands on something like that. Or maybe it wasn't something you could 'get your hands on' in the first place? After all, you had to be born with necromancy. So maybe that was one thing on the list of 'things-Voldy-would-do-to-become-immortal' that Cyrus could cross off. After all, if Yankovich had tried to rip his soul out and had _failed_… Well, Cyrus needed to figure out how Voldemort managed to keep himself from kicking the can if he was ever going to kill the bastard. He didn't really want to fight Voldemort, but with the prophecy hanging over his head and the possibility of a zombie army-

"So, I never went to Shikaan. I went to Lestralis instead," Ashawyn interrupted his thoughts. "What's it like? I've heard that it's the best of all the schools, but has the highest mortality rate. My mother didn't want to send me there, but I always thought it might have been a better choice than Lestralis." Ice blue eyes watched Cyrus's face.

The human twitched. Why was he staring at Cyrus like that? "Well, I'm not sure which is better. I've only ever been to Shikaan. I didn't know about the other schools, to be honest."

Ashawyn's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Your parents sent you to Shikaan without checking out the alternatives? They must have been very sure you would survive."

Cyrus looked away from that stare and down at the book still in his hands. He put it back on the shelf where he found it. He didn't want to be having this conversation anymore. "My parents are dead. My guardian went to Shikaan for a year before deciding not to continue. He thought I wouldn't have that same problem," he said, flat and uninterested as he moved to walk away.

A hand grabbed his own and he stiffened. A stupefy formed under his skin in less time than it took him to think it into existence.

"I'm terribly sorry," that baritone said softly, but Cyrus refused to look him in the eyes, keeping his gaze firmly trained on the bookcase in front of him with as blank an expression he could manage. "I had no idea that… anyway, I'm sorry. And if I've offended you in any way, with something else I said, I'm sorry for that too."

Cyrus frowned. Ashawyn was being far too understanding. It wasn't normal. He looked up and met those ice blue eyes. He had motive. There was something he wanted. He wouldn't be standing here talking to _Cyrus_ of all people otherwise. The question was… what was it? "It's fine. I should probably be-" he moved to walk away again, but the hand tightened its hold. He frowned.

"Please, just wait. I'd like to give you a tour of the library, or the rest of the Guildhall."

Cyrus frowned. "I've been told not to leave the library, so no, you can't show me the rest of the… Guildhall." He pulled his hand away, trying to forget the feeling of that thumb stroking along the back of it. His awkwardness-o-meter had jumped up to a seven.

The man frowned. "And you don't want a tour of the library?"

Cyrus opened his mouth to say a firm _no_ when a familiar voice came from behind him.

"Obsidian! About time I found you. Should have figured you'd be with the necromancy books."

Cyrus turned around with a relieved smile. Finally! He walked towards his necromancy teacher. "Professor Yankovich! How did the meeting go?"

But the demon wasn't looking at him. He had turned his attention to the man standing behind Cyrus, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Making friends with the enemy?"

Cyrus blinked. "What?"

"He's Mikhail's apprentice. He and I are… rivals, you could say."

The human turned around and frowned at Ashawyn. "Oh. So, is this some sort of guild-speak for 'do not talk to him'?"

The smile on Yankovich's face grew teeth. "Well, you're not my apprentice, so I have no control over who you associate with."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Really. He totally believed that. The demon was practically radiating vibes.

"Master Yankovich," Ashawyn said with a polite bow at the waist. This seemed to mollify the demon somewhat. "It's a pleasure to see you again under neutral circumstances."

Yankovich snorted. "Yes, I suppose it is. Mikhail's looking for you. I suppose you might as well come with us, since we're going to the same place anyway."

Ashawyn frowned slightly before nodding his acceptance. When the demon started walking away, both students followed.

Cyrus frowned. What in the world? Did this have something to do with the blackmailing that Yankovich had said he was going to be doing? Did the council meeting not end favorably? He wanted to ask the demon, out of sheer curiosity, but he wasn't sure Yankovich would answer with Ashawyn standing right there, so he decided to just wait and see what would happen next.

_oOo_

They ended up portkeying to what appeared to be a restaurant, and Cyrus couldn't help but stare around himself in awe. There were demons and other magical beings everywhere! He couldn't even recognize most of them. Occasionally he'd catch sight of a werewolf by the flash of their eyes, or a vampire by their fangs, but he had no idea how to pick them apart from humans otherwise. He frowned. He wondered if this 'magical sensitivity' of his could help him with that. And could help detect people sneaking up on him. So far, he knew he could feel… er, good, in the presence of powerful magical people, he could reach inside that snake and do _something_ – he had no idea what – to help her young be born, and… Occasionally he could pick up auras on his skin, but that was only when the source was actively giving it off. He mentally shuddered at the memory of Dumbledore's magic on his skin.

He needed to ask someone or do some research.

"Ah! Yankovich! I was wondering how long it would take you. Mikhail said you were bringing his student?" The man who had called out was sitting in a corner around a circular table. Each table was separated by beautiful stone walls and plants to create a feeling of privacy. Next to the more 'jovial' man was a white-haired, grey-eyed man who was watching them with a haughty attitude that reminded Cyrus of Malfoy.

Yankovich walked forward and gripped the jovial man's forearm in greeting. "Sandaman! It's good to see you again. We didn't really get to chat much before the meeting."

The dark-haired and dark-eyed man raised an eyebrow. "No, we didn't. You were too busy blackmailing me into submission. It's too bad my vote in your favor didn't end up making a difference during the council meeting. But aside from that, I would have helped you myself if you'd just asked, my friend."

The demon just shrugged. "This was too important a venture for you to have the choice to back out."

Sandaman nodded and sat back down, glancing at the fair-featured man sitting next to him nervously. Cyrus watched the byplay with interest. But before he could contemplate the significance of that nervousness, Ashawyn had walked forward and bowed to him. "Master Mikhail, I apologize for my tardiness."

Mikhail paused before giving any acknowledgement. "I tried to contact you on your magi-com. Did you turn it off?"

"The energy was low, Master. I was going to change the battery after I finished in the library."

Mikhail nodded. "Very well. It is fortunate, then, that Yankovich saw you."

Ashawyn bowed his head and sat in the empty seat next to his Master. Cyrus watched the whole exchange with curiosity.

"Mikhail," Yankovich inclined his head stiffly, and the other necromancer returned it with just as much resentment. When Yankovich sat down, and there was one chair left for Cyrus, the human tried to sit as inconspicuously as possible. This didn't stop everyone from looking at him, though. "This is a student of mine from Shikaan. Cyrus Obsidian."

Sandaman nodded his head and smiled in welcome. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Obsidian. What, may I ask, is your role in this endeavor?"

Cyrus turned to Yankovich, not knowing how to answer that himself.

The demon had a small smirk on his face. "He has very little practical experience. However, he will be acting as a channeler in this particular raising."

Sandaman's eyebrows rose. "Really? Fascinating." He turned to Cyrus. "How many times have you channeled in the past?"

The human bit his lip. "None?"

Both Mikhail and Sandaman turned to Yankovich with accusing expressions. "You want a raising this large to be his first? Are you mad?" Mikhail asked derisively, his grey eyes beginning to glow.

Yankovich just grinned. "He'll do just fine. He has a remarkable intuition."

Sandaman's eyebrows rose incredulously. "'Remarkable intuition'? That's all you have to say for yourself? Yankovich, even _you _cannot be this crazy. He has never channeled before! So many things could go wrong!"

Cyrus wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. The only person who didn't seem to be arguing now was Ashawyn, but the apprentice was watching him with an intensity that threw Cyrus. Was it because of jealousy, or something? Cyrus hadn't thought that it was such a big deal, before. Yankovich thought he could do it. He wouldn't risk his niece's life if he thought Cyrus would fuck the whole thing up, right?

The three masters were still arguing. "There's no way he has that much death magic! And that he'll be able to channel it safely! You just admitted it yourself that he's inexperienced! That means he has no control!" Mikhail was arguing vehemently.

Cyrus wondered if they'd put up privacy wards.

Yankovich, for once, was the calm end of the argument. "He is very intuitive, Mikhail, and I will be guiding him the entire way. So stop picking a fight. Together – even with your apprentice – we don't have enough collective death magic to raise a thousand inferi. You know that."

Mikhail crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. Luckily, at that moment a waiter came with food and floated it onto the table. Cyrus watched, confused for a moment until he realized that they must have ordered ahead.

Some of the dishes were things he'd never seen before, and Sandaman was the only one with bacon, eggs, and pancakes sitting in front of him. The man, who had merely observed during the fight when Mikhail got on a roll, started cutting into his pancakes as he said to Yankovich, "I hope you don't mind, but I ordered what you usually get. I didn't think to get something for your… student, though."

The demon nodded and turned to Cyrus. "Did you want something to eat? We're going to be busy with preparation for most of the day, so you'll need your energy." When Cyrus nodded hesitantly, Yankovich turned to the waiter who was still standing there. "Whatever he gets, put it on my tab please."

The waiter nodded with a smile and pulled out a small pad and pen. He turned to Cyrus. "Did you want a menu, or do you know what you want already?"

Cyrus blinked. "Er…" He looked around at the odd dishes on the table. Even Mikhail had ordered something for his apprentice, so it seemed. Ashawyn was digging into some melon-shaped fruit that looked like it had been baked and stuffed with… he didn't want to know what that was. "Can I get eggs, bacon, toast, and some fruit please?"

The waiter wrote something down. "Did you want human fruit, fae fruit, demon fruit-"

"Human fruit, please."

Yankovich smirked. "Not feeling adventurous, Obsidian?"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at the demon and said flatly, "Decidedly not."

Ashawyn smiled and covered it by putting another fork full of fruit in his mouth. While Cyrus waited for his food to arrive, so he could pretend to be suitably distracted, he tried not to look like he was listening to the masters' conversation. He was therefore understandably surprised when something brushed up against his leg under the table. He jumped in his seat and looked at the people sitting at their table. None of them looked the slightest bit guilty. His eyes narrowed. The only person he could logically see doing that was…

The thing brushed his leg again, and this time Cyrus knew it was no accident. He stared at Ashawyn and shifted his legs back and wrapped his ankles around his chair legs. What was the apprentice up to?

Finally, his food came. Ashawyn gave nothing away, and Cyrus began to doubt himself. Perhaps he'd just imagined it? Shaking his head slightly, he dug into his food. Everyone else was either done eating or almost there. Having plenty experience of shoveling his face while not actually looking like a pig (after all, Petunia had removed his plate for smaller offences than improper decorum at the dinner table), Cyrus proceeded to inhale his food. The current company didn't seem like the type to just wait for an inexperienced student to finish eating.

When he finished in two minutes, he ignored the way Ashawyn was staring at him, _again_, and sipped at his water. Lucky for him, the waiter came with their bills less than a minute later. The masters left varying sums on the table before getting up to leave.

"So, of the locations discussed, which have you decided on, Yankovich?" Sandaman asked.

"The landslide in the mountains. Less likely for muggles to discover us. We'll have to put up a ward, as well. It could be disastrous to get interrupted in the middle of the raising."

The two nodded and disappeared, Sandaman with the telltale crack of disapparition and Mikhail without a sound. Ashawyn disappeared with his master.

Yankovich turned to Cyrus. "You ready to take off?"

The human smiled weakly. "I hope so. I just hope my inexperience doesn't fuck anything up."

The demon laughed. "Don't worry about Sandaman and Mikhail. They haven't taught you like I have."

Cyrus shrugged and Yankovich placed a hand on his shoulder for side-along apparition. They disappeared with a squeezing sensation.

_oOo_

Cyrus sat on his conjured stool like he had for the past couple hours. He officially had _no_ fucking clue what they were doing. He'd been watching them weave spells over the surrounding area for hours. He'd even checked surreptitiously with his rune sight to see what they were, but the only spells he recognized were the wards on the area that made sure muggles turned away and that other magical beings were warned to 'stay away'. He wasn't sure exactly how the latter worked, but since Yankovich had been the one to cast it, he figured it must work.

But the runes for the spells that he didn't recognize looked very… odd, to his rune sight. Whereas natural magic glowed with bright colors, the other spells seemed to… Suck it in. In the darkness of his sight, they shimmered an even darker blackness, something he hadn't thought was possible. And the runes that he could make out in the blackness he didn't recognize. At all.

It was all both intriguing and boring as hell at the same time. He could only sit on his chair with his eyes closed for so long before he started to look like an idiot, and he couldn't exactly break out his runes textbooks and start studying empty air. Though, if this took any longer, he was seriously considering starting to do his homework or studying. He was getting to the point that he didn't care if the other two masters gave him dirty looks. They hadn't exactly been smiling warmly at him from the get go.

He was just about to pull out one of his textbooks when Yankovich finally came over to him with a smirk. Cyrus frowned. There was something about this picture that was entirely _not_ smile worthy… so what was the demon so happy about?

"So…" Cyrus started curiously, raising an eyebrow.

The demon's smirk widened. "All the spellwork worked out. Voldemort is going to have a very nasty surprise in store for him, the sick bastard."

Now Cyrus was even more curious. "What did you guys do, exactly?"

Yankovich looked entirely too pleased with himself. "We managed to create a self-destructing spell with a built in timer. After twenty-four hours of the spell in his hands, his controlling matrix will collapse and the zombies will immediately turn on him and try to eat him."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Eat him? Why would they try to eat him? I mean, zombies don't really have enough presence of mind to choose who they munch on, right?"

The demon's smirk widened into a grin that showed off his sharp canines. "Ah, but that's the beauty of it. The control matrix will basically be booby-trapped to draw zombies to it with the death magic stored inside of it."

Cyrus frowned. "Aaand what if he just drops it and disapparates? That's a lot of work for him to just run away."

Yankovich smirked. "And that would normally be the case, except the type of death magic we'll be manipulating into the matrix will taint the bastard like catnip. Once the zombies have consumed the death magic in the matrix, they'll search for Voldemort until they find him and eat him. The only way for him to escape a gruesome fate would be to destroy every last inferius, and keep in mind, he has us raising a _thousand self-sustaining inferi._ So the only way to kill them is to use a necromancer or fiendfyre. And fiendfyre is notoriously difficult to control and drains a lot of magical power. The cat and mouse will last at least a week, I've estimated." When Cyrus just stared at him, the demon frowned. "What? You don't like it? I thought it was rather ingenious myself…"

Cyrus snapped out of his daze. "No, no, I like it. I think it's fitting. I was just… in awe of your… deviousness." He mentally winced. That so didn't come out right.

The demon looked unimpressed. "Really," he said, not sounding all that convinced.

"No, seriously, I think it's brilliant. I just had no idea that you could do all that with death magic."

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "Really? I need to assign better reading material."

"When do we start learning stuff like that?" Cyrus asked curiously.

The demon laughed. "Not until you're studying for your mastery, and then even _after_ that. You never stop learning. A mastery just indicates that you've reached a level that we can leave you alone and expect that no major cities will be destroyed. The average necromancer may stop there, satisfied with their level of knowledge and experience, but others decide to keep studying and experimenting. It's like any profession, really."

Cyrus nodded in interest. "So you become a master by becoming an apprentice, right?" The demon nodded. "And there aren't any standings above master?"

Yankovich grinned. "No need for it. We're a small enough community that everyone is well aware of how powerful everyone else is. In some of the larger fields, like potions, they start giving special names and awards to measure progress or advances in knowledge, but in necromancy it doesn't really matter. We're all very aware of the pecking order."

Cyrus's lips quirked. "So how powerful are you?"

The demon looked amused. "Already scoping out competition?"

The human shrugged nonchalantly. "Not so much. I just figure that if I'm going to do an apprenticeship, I should find the best teacher, right?"

A slow and predatory smirk spread across the demon's face. "Oh really? You considering a necromancy mastery, then? You're not going to go with runes instead?"

Cyrus shrugged. "Ideally I'd like to do both, but things like that don't always work out. I'll have to wait and see until I graduate anyway." He raised an eyebrow. "And you still haven't answered the question."

Yankovich nodded. "Yes, sometimes it's better not to worry about things until you have to. And to answer your question, sheer power doesn't always matter. I actually have very little death magic in comparison to some of the other necromancers, or yourself, but I have such a highly developed control that I can often achieve better results than those with all the power. Over a thousand years experience helps, too."

Cyrus choked. "O-over a thousand years? You're over a thousand years old?"

Yankovich smirked. "Demons live for a long time, like vampires."

The human just stared at him.

"Yankovich! Are you done with the lecture yet?" Sandaman called from a few yards away. "We've finished the last touches on the matrix. Mikhail's apprentice is just finishing putting up the salt circles in case the shit hits the fan."

The demon nodded and motioned for Cyrus to follow as he walked towards the other necromancers. The human did as directed, his brain still overwhelmed by the knowledge that Yankovich was as old as Hogwarts. He had to snap himself out of it quickly enough, though, as he was ordered to stand in the middle of the smaller salt circle that Ashawyn had probably made. It was just big enough for them to stand in. "Is the circle in case the raising doesn't work?"

Mikhail was the one to answer. "You didn't think that we'd have enough confidence in _your_ amateur ability not to use one, did you?"

Cyrus turned to the white-haired man, repressing a glare. He'd just asked an innocent question. Mikhail didn't have to be a complete asshole about it.

But Yankovich answered the question as if Mikhail had never opened his mouth. "Salt circles are often used in the more dangerous raisings or rituals. They don't impede the flow of death magic into the ground, but they keep the zombies out until we can deal with them accordingly if the raising fails. That's why Ashawyn has been making a salt circle around the entire site as well."

Mikhail rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you insist in calling them that muggle word, Yankovich. They are _inferi_."

Sandaman looked amused.

"Well not all of us are stuck up elves, _Mikhail_, and even though I have little respect for the human race, I _do_ respect the invention of television."

This time Cyrus had to bite his lip to hold back his grin, as the look of disgust on Mikhail's face was too funny to not laugh. Sandaman apparently had no such reservations, however, as he started chuckling softly to himself. The elf shot him a dangerous look.

"Careful Yankovich," Sandaman said with an amused smile. "I might think you're insulting me again. You remember what happened the last time you did that, no?"

Yankovich grinned. "I was hardly insulting you, my friend. You know you don't fall in with the rest of the pathetic human race."

The master laughed. "Well, I'm glad we're still on the same page, then." Black eyes flashed dangerously, but the human did nothing threatening.

Luckily, the impeding fight was delayed when Ashawyn finally returned, his cheeks a rosy red and looking like he'd just gone for a run. For all Cyrus knew, he probably _had_.

"The mass salt circle has been finished, Master. Where would you like me in the circle?"

Mikhail turned to Yankovich, still angry. "Where do you want him? This is _your_ little ritual, after all."

The demon looked unaffected by the burning glare of the elf's eyes. "Apprentice Thalla, if you could please stand in the center with Obsidian? You will be channeling today."

Ashawyn nodded and walked carefully over the salt circle and into the center. He smiled at Cyrus as he came to a stop next to him. The human gave him a brief smile, but couldn't devote much of his mind to think about the way that Ashawyn was watching him again. This was it. The raising was finally going to start, and Cyrus still had no fucking clue what he was supposed to be doing.

"Obsidian, I want you to observe the way Ashawyn channels his death magic and follow his lead, understand?"

Cyrus frowned. "How am I supposed to do that?" He tried to ignore the scoff of Mikhail and the way Sandaman brought a hand to his forehead.

Yankovich looked at Mikhail for a second with a very odd expression before turning his attention back to Cyrus. "Do you remember the first Necromancy class we had?"

The human blinked. "Yeah?"

"That is how you will observe."

Cyrus frowned. What was the demon talking about? And then it clicked. The first class had been when Yankovich revealed to the class that he had magic sensitivity. But why hadn't Yankovich just come out and said it in front of these masters?

Cyrus snapped himself out of his distracting thoughts. He needed to focus. He had to somehow figure out how to sense the way that Ashawyn manipulated his death magic. Wincing internally, he bit his lip in concentration. This was either going to go well or blow up spectacularly in all of their faces. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to… open himself.

"This human had better pull it off, Yankovich. I'm leaving at the first signs of explosion," Mikhail said derisively, but Cyrus ignored him. Yankovich thought he could do this, so he could do it. He just had to trust his own capabilities.

"Ashawyn, I want you to create the channels slowly, one by one, so Cyrus can see every step of the process. Understand?"

The apprentice made an affirmative noise, and Cyrus tried to open his mind even further in preparation for whatever it was that he was supposed to be sensing. All of a sudden, the cold feeling that he hadn't realized he'd been feeling at all seemed to turn to ice to his right, and he nearly took a step back in surprise at the feeling of snow brushing against his skin. He focused on the area where he now knew Ashawyn was standing, and 'watched' incredulously as the freezing energy drew itself together and slowly stretched out a tendril of energy beyond what Cyrus was currently sensing. He followed the magical arm until it connected with another energy that felt dark and powerful. He watched, fascinated, as the arm seemed to cautiously brush up against the power before being welcomed inside. With a nearly audible _click_, the channel settled into place.

"Do you need to see it again, Cyrus?" Ashawyn's soft voice asked.

The human hummed thoughtfully to himself. "I don't know. Is that Yankovich you attached it to?"

He felt a startled movement beside him. "Y-yes. How did you know?"

Cyrus shrugged. The energy had felt dark and powerful. That seemed to match up with what he knew of Yankovich so far. The demon claimed he didn't have much power when it came to necromancy, but he seemed pretty powerful to Cyrus. Maybe thousand-year-old demons had different measurements of power than humans did.

He mentally shook himself. He needed to get back on track. Focusing on his own death magic, he suppressed his natural magic and drew the other to the surface.

"Careful, Obsidian! You're giving off power like a torch. You need to focus it into yourself and then into creating a channel, not outside of yourself like you do during a raising. Otherwise you waste it," Yankovich's voice instructed from what sounded like a place far away.

Cyrus nodded and snapped the power back into himself with an iron fist. He gasped as he felt it push his natural magic out of his channels and back into his core, taking its place inside his body. His limbs felt cold, but not uncomfortably so. It was the oddest feeling.

Bringing himself back to the real world, as he had been reveling in the feeling of his own power, he tried to focus the death magic into a channel, but didn't know quite where to attach it. "Yankovich," he began hesitantly, "do I attach the channel to my core or somewhere else?"

"Never attach it to your core. It's easier to control your own output when it has to make its way through your channels first. If you attached it to your core you could swamp us with power and burn us up."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Oh. Well, that's not good." He focused on attaching the channel to his right arm, as he wanted to keep his hands free in case he needed them for something else. The channel grew where he specified it to, and he stretched it out to the demon with little hassle. The channel weakened the farther it got away from Cyrus, but the moment it connected to the demon it strengthened and hummed with the energy he was holding back.

"Good. Ashawyn, connect to Sandaman next. Cyrus, connect to him right afterwards."

Cyrus watched as the freezing energy of Ashawyn did as ordered. When the channel was strong, Cyrus did the same. It was easier the second time. This one he attached to his left arm, leaving him to ponder where he was going to attach the third. Probably to his leg. It would make no sense to have enough energy to power two necromancers flowing into one limb. He wasn't sure if his channels could take the strain, either, as he'd never done something like this before.

When Ashawyn quickly moved to connect to Mikhail, not needing Yankovich's direction to do so, Cyrus followed and connected right afterwards.

"Thalla, start channeling your energy. Obsidian, we're using you for the actual raising itself, Thalla's energy is for the preparation. Most of our own death magic has been used up casting the spells earlier for the matrix, so when we call on you for power you're going to have to keep the flow as steady as you can, alright?" Cyrus nodded. "Good. Thalla, start channeling enough to raise a ten year old zombie into each channel."

"Yes, sir. If I channel that much, though, I'm only going to last for a few minutes."

"That's fine. When you're out of energy, cut the channels and don't leave the circle."

Ashawyn made an affirmative noise, and Cyrus watched curiously as the ice cold power started flowing through the three channels as if a faucet had been turned. He watched as the energy flowed into the three masters, and then they distributed it into the ground below. Cyrus followed the magic as it began to feel out the dead that had been buried in a landslide. They were quite a ways down, and there was far more than a thousand. He watched, curiously, as tiny embers were placed in each of the dead, and the masters did it one at a time almost as if they were… counting?

A few minutes later, Cyrus felt Ashawyn's connections snap and heard the apprentice collapse to the ground beside him, heaving in air.

"Obsidian! We didn't finish. Start channeling the same amount of energy as Ashawyn. Can you measure that?"

Not bothering to answer the question, the human released his hold just enough for the right amount of energy to sneak by. Now that death magic was practically bulging in his inner channels, he found the war to use his death magic was much less fighting to pull the energy out of the core and more holding it back from leaving his body in a gigantic flood.

"Perfect. I'll let you know when we're going to do the actual raising, just hold the power output as steady as you can."

Cyrus wasn't sure if their eyes were open, as his own certainly weren't, so he muttered a quiet affirmative, trying to keep an iron grip on his power.

It was a minute before Yankovich spoke again. "Alright! We're ready. Obsidian, we're going to need to you increase the output of your energy to ten times what you're doing right now, okay? This is going to be the fast part of the raising, so we need that exact amount of energy, and we need it as evenly channeled as possible. If the amount changes too radically, it could compromise our concentration. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Cyrus took in a deep breath. Increasing the speed of the energy was probably not the best idea, as he wouldn't know how to measure the energy he was giving in terms of how fast it was moving out of his body. He figured the best way to measure it would be to just change the size of his channels. He'd fashioned them after Ashawyn's, after all, so he didn't think they'd be able to stand up to the strain he was about to put them under. Cutting off the flow of his death magic, he sent a pulse of the energy to his channels and widened them to ten times the size they were before. Opening the floodgates a bit, he tried to measure the speed of the magic to what it had been moving at before.

"Obsidian, that's too- wait. A little bit more… Perfect. Keep it steady right there."

Cyrus nodded, not trusting himself at that moment to speak and not break his concentration. He didn't think he'd be breathing right now if the act were conscious. As he was focused entirely on the channeling of his magic, he didn't feel the zombies as they were raised. One minute he was channeling magic and the next Yankovich was telling him to stop.

Cutting the channels with barely a thought, Cyrus let himself collapse onto his ass with a heaving breath. Rubbing his head, he wished he had a glass of water.

"You alright, Obsidian?" a familiar voice asked from in front of him.

Cyrus opened his groggy eyes and saw Yankovich's face swimming in front of his own. "Headache," he croaked out.

The demon grinned. "You're not used to controlling that much death magic all at once yet. I'm not surprised you have a headache."

The human scowled. "Thanks," he grumbled to himself, letting his body lay back against the ground. Frowning at the rocks digging into his spine, he sucked his death magic back into his core and let his natural magic fill him again. With a discharge of magic into the ground below him, he conjured a mattress under himself. He sighed. That was better.

Yankovich chuckled. "How much death magic do you have left, Obsidian? I want to see how close it was."

Cyrus grumbled. "How 'm I s'posed t' tell?" he slurred, bringing his fingers up to his temples and trying to massage the pain away with a little healing magic. It didn't work. Apparently dehydration couldn't be cured with magic. He was storing emergency water supplies from now on. He had enough nutrient potions to carry him over for a month of starvation, but did he have any water? No. 'Idiot,' he thought disparagingly to himself.

"Well, you have the same amount of natural magic as you do death magic. Compare them."

Cyrus frowned and did as requested. He didn't really care to see how close it had been himself, but it was probably best that Yankovich know. The demon _was_ his teacher, after all. Ignoring his headache the best he could, he tried to get a feel for the magic inside him. He frowned. "Half," he muttered, not quite believing it himself.

"Excuse me? Did he just say _half?_ Now we know the boy is lying, Sandaman. After that raising, it would be impossible for-"

"Shut up, Mikhail. I'm sick and tired of your bitching. You finished the ritual for me, and now we're even. Go back to that hole you call an office and get yourself out of my hair."

The elf glared and grabbed his apprentice, disappearing without a sound.

Yankovich let out a relieved breath.

"Thank the gods he's gone," Sandaman muttered under his breath from where he stood next to the demon. Yankovich snorted in agreement. Cyrus watched the interaction curiously. Sandaman was actually Yankovich's friend, it seemed. He hadn't thought so with their bickering earlier, but the demon seemed to be genuinely at ease in the human's presence.

It was an interesting, to say the least. That a demon as prejudiced as Yankovich could have a human friend… Well, Cyrus would ponder it when he had less of a skull-splitting headache. "Do either of you have water?" he asked curiously after clearing his throat.

Sandaman raised an eyebrow before reaching into a bag at his waist and pulling out a plastic bottle of water and handing it to him. Cyrus blinked, sat up, and took it. Sandaman had a muggle brand of spring water in his bottomless bag? How very odd. Twisting off the cap with a thought, he chugged half the bottle. It would take a while for the headache to go away, but he felt better with his throat no longer dry. Screwing the lid back on, he put it in his lap and lay back down.

Yankovich snorted. "You don't want to look at the fruits of your labor?"

Cyrus blinked before finally taking a look around himself to see the army of inferi. Both eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of so many dead bodies in varying states of decomposition. He couldn't help but whistle appreciatively. "I wish I could be there to see it blow up in his face," he said with a rueful grin.

Yankovich smirked. "While amusing, that would be dangerous to your health. Even with the spells the zombies are under, if there was a powerful enough necromancer nearby they would inevitably be drawn to him."

"Oh." Cyrus shrugged. "Well, that's too bad. I'm sure it'd be quite the show," the human commented, thinking about the fits of anger he'd witnessed through the curse scar.

Yankovich made an affirmative noise and turned to Sandaman. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

The human shrugged. "I don't have anything of particular interest to get back to, but if I'm not home in time to cook dinner… Well, you know how Carla gets."

The demon shuddered. "Yeah. I swear she has harpy blood in her."

Sandaman, amazingly, only looked amused rather than offended. "Yes, well, her blood lineage is a sensitive topic. For all know she _does_ have harpy blood." He let out a sigh. "But yes, it would be best that I return. Good luck with this 'Dark Lord'." He disappeared with a quiet pop without waiting for an answer.

Yankovich snorted. "Voldemort will get his due." He turned to Cyrus, who was still lying down on his conjured mattress. "You ready to go?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Cyrus nodded and pulled himself to his feet with some difficulty. He felt remotely better after drinking the water, but he still felt sluggish. Blinking as the world tilted for a moment, he probably would have fallen over if Yankovich hadn't grabbed his shoulder. Cyrus blinked up into blue eyes, dazed for a moment before he managed to catch his balance. "Thanks," he muttered softly, embarrassed.

Yankovich's face gave nothing away as he nodded in acknowledgement. The hand that had braced his shoulder squeezed slightly before letting go. Cyrus stared after the demon as he walked away, confused as to what that had been about. Brushing it off, he walked after the demon. They were still inside the salt circle, but Yankovich stepped over it instead of breaking it, so Cyrus followed his example. When the zombies didn't converge on them and try to consume their flesh, the human let out a sigh of relief. There was always a chance…

He watched curiously as Yankovich conjured a long rope and cast _portus_ on it.

"So, where exactly are we dropping off the zombies? I don't remember Voldemort's letter giving any… details."

Yankovich tossed the portkey over the army of inferi, and Cyrus watched as the undead seemed to follow a command that Cyrus couldn't hear, because they slowly moved to grab a piece of the rope. "The details were in the first letter. The one that you heard was… after I tried to kill him. Apparently his army was more important to him than revenge." The demon shrugged.

Cyrus frowned. Revenge… A stone of dread sank in his stomach. What if… Voldemort wasn't exactly the forgiving type, so what if… what if he'd already killed Yankovich's niece?

"What'll you do if Voldemort backstabs you?"

Yankovich seemed surprised by Cyrus's question for a moment before he smirked viciously. "That is why you and Vladovich are coming with me."

Cyrus blinked. "Wait. What?"

"Vladovich wants to see his daughter safe as soon as possible, so he made me promise last night that I would phone him before we left for the drop location. Speaking of which…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red stone. When he tossed it to Cyrus, the human would have dropped it in surprise if not for his seeker reflexes.

Turning the stone over in his hands, Cyrus frowned. "What is it?"

"Rivehn made it for you before I left last night. It'll keep you invisible to nearly all methods of detection, even a werewolf's nose." He smirked. "In case Voldemort doesn't keep his end of the deal, you'll be hiding in the shadows searching for my niece. With your rune sight, it should be easy for you to locate wards and tear them down."

Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you just get Rivehn to come with you?"

Yankovich scowled slightly. "He is… busy. Something came up that required his attention."

Cyrus nodded slowly. It must be something important if Rivehn couldn't make it. Cyrus was hardly a replacement for the vampire's incredible abilities in rune magic, after all. He hoped, again, that he didn't screw it all up.

_oOo_

"Good evening, Necromancer Yankovich," Voldemort said with a mocking smile on his serpentine face. From where Cyrus stood at the edge of the clearing, he could just barely see the red of the Dark Lord's eyes before he activated his rune sight and started searching.

"Voldemort."

"I trust everything is in order?"

"Yes. You will be easily able to command the inferi with this. Now where is my niece?"

"The stone, first," Voldemort said authoritatively.

There was silence for a moment as Cyrus assumed Yankovich had given over the stone that held the matrix. Cyrus caught sight of a medium-sized dome some distance away, and turned off his rune sight for a moment so he could navigate the zombie army he'd portkeyed in with. It was very distracting to see the pitch-black halos of runes floating in midair tied to the matrix.

Hearing a crack, Cyrus glanced over to the confrontation to see that Vladovich had apparated in. The demon glanced at Yankovich in concern.

"Now give me my niece," Yankovich ordered, eyes flashing to his brother for a moment before focusing their attention back on the Dark Lord.

Voldemort ignored him, examining the fist-sized precious stone in his hand. Cyrus absently wondered if it was real as he watched the inferius army jump, probably at Voldemort's order. The human reached the end of the line of inferi and activated his sight again to check that he was heading in the right direction.

"Thank you for making the inferi for me, Necromancer."

There was a pause, and then Vladovich shouted, "What about my daughter?!"

"I decided not to return her to you."

Cyrus swore under his breath and broke out into a sprint.

"Excuse me?"

Cyrus had never heard Yankovich's voice sound so cold.

"Well, I do thank you for the army. However, I hardly think impertinence such as yours deserves to be rewarded." Cyrus turned his rune sight off for a moment, just for a glance, and stared when he saw that the inferi had disappeared. What the hell had Voldemort done with them? Giving himself a mental shake, he turned his attention back to his mission.

"What have you done with her?!" Cyrus heard Vladovich's voice growl angrily in the clearing as Cyrus came to a stop in front of the ward.

"I've decided to reward Macnair for his good behavior. Macnair, why don't you take down the invisibility wards and show these… _demons_ who they tried to kill."

Cyrus could feel the burst of angry magic even though he was yards away. Frantically, he started examining the wards to see if they would backlash if he tore them down.

"We had a deal, human. No one in Other Realm with work for or with you if they find out your word is worth less than monkey piss."

Drawing both his wands, Cyrus mentally scoffed at the wards' design. How juvenile. With a thought, he snapped the elementary execution sequence.

They broke just like the wards at the Dursley's had – in a rain of shards of light. Turning off his sight, he ran for the little girl he saw being held by the hair by another man. His vision turned red at the sight of the sick bastard's hand under her skirts. Dodging the spells sent his way by the confused Death Eaters with instinct derived from months of drills and obstacle courses under the hellacious eye of Welkins, Cyrus brought both his wands up and started hammering off spells. While his phoenix wand was incapable of casting Dark Arts, he made up for it with creativity.

He'd managed to take down ten of the more stupid Death Eaters in the first thirty seconds, but after that they started getting smart. Waves of Dark curses were sent in his approximate direction, and Cyrus swore as he stopped casting and had to jump and roll to the side. He let out a relieved breath when they didn't seem to notice that he had moved. Taking a quick glance while maneuvering around the Death Eaters to hit them from behind, he saw the duel between Yankovich, Vladovich, and Voldemort. It just as amazing as Dumbledore and Voldemort's battle in the Department of Mysteries. Plants Cyrus had never seen before were writhing all over the place, and while Yankovich had little death magic left, he was ripping up the landscape with his wand.

Turning his attention back to his own battle, Cyrus started picking off the Death Eaters from behind with a quick volley of curses. Unfortunately, only two fell before the last three had turned around. Before Cyrus could throw more curses, Macnair laughed and grabbed the girl, holding his wand to her head.

"Come out from under your invisibility, or I kill the girl."

Cyrus swore under his breath, but he knew he wouldn't be able to take Macnair and the other two out before the killing curse was cast.

"You've managed to kill off many of the lesser Death Eaters, but we won't be so easy as them. Take off your invisibility and surrender your wands, or this girl will suffer a very painful death before moving on to the next world."

Biting his lip, Cyrus floundered. He could hide one of his wands, but which one? His death wand was powerful and rare, but so was his phoenix feather. Cursing mentally, he sheathed his phoenix wand and cast obscuring charms all over it. After the shit he went through to get this feather, he'd rather lose his death stick. Reaching into his pocket, he grasped the ruby and deactivated the spells, leaving it in his pocket in case he needed it again.

A grin spread across Macnair's face. He was the only Death Eater without a mask on. "Well looky here. The demon sent a _boy_ to do his dirty work." He motioned at one of his fellows and he or she took up position behind the girl so Macnair could walk forward.

Cyrus distinctly felt like he was being stalked.

"Throw me your wand," Macnair ordered, holding his own wand in front of him.

Cyrus tossed it with an angry glare. The Death Eater caught it easily and slipped it into the folds of his robes. When he walked even closer, Cyrus tried to take a step back.

"Don't move, or Rookwood kills the girl."

Biting his lip, he tried to relax his body in case he needed to move suddenly. Knees bent, hands aching for his wands, he was totally shocked into stiffness when Macnair trailed the back of his hand down Cyrus's cheek. His mind froze on _what what what_-

"You have a very pretty face, boy," Macnair said softly, his dark eyes looking Cyrus up and down with a hungry glint in their depths. Cyrus felt a shiver of revulsion and a hint of fear race down his spine. "You have Potter's eyes." His own verdant eyes widened as full-blown _fear_ had his magic churning under his skin and his heart hammering in his chest. "You must be part demon, or something else," the Death Eater murmured thoughtfully as his fingertips gripped Cyrus's face and turned it to one side. "No human but Potter has eyes this green."

Cyrus's relief at his averted discovery was short lived when Macnair's hand started trailing down his neck.

"Walden! We don't have time for your perverted desires. We're unprotected with the wards destroyed."

Macnair didn't even glance behind him, his eyes locked on Cyrus's own. "Then put the them back up, Rabastan. And don't make them so easy to tear down this time. I've been promised my allotted fun, and this boy will do nicely." Those dirty eyes looked Cyrus over again, and this time the hands followed as well. Cyrus was beginning to think wearing tight basilisk skin when his musculature was more defined like this was a baaad idea. He hissed when he felt the hands run over his pectoral muscles and stopped where his nipples would have been if the basilisk skin weren't so thick. Thumbs ran circles over chest for a moment, managing to hit the sensitive nubs a few times before trailing down farther and over his budding abs. When they moved farther south, a horrified noise escaped Cyrus's throat and he tried to step away. Macnair grabbed his arm, just missing his phoenix wand's hidden sheath.

"Didn't I tell you not to move? Do you need Rookwood to cut off her arm before you realize how _serious_ I am?" Macnair squeezed, watching Cyrus's face.

The green-eyed adolescent looked at the girl who was sniveling and crying, bruises littering the skin he could see and blood covering her torn blue skirts. She looked at him with teary eyes, and he could see such hopelessness in them. She thought she was going to die.

Biting his lip, Cyrus took back the step he had taken, refusing to meet Macnair's eyes. He didn't miss the perverted smirk that spread across that face though, as the hand resumed its trip south and gripped him through his pants. Closing his eyes in humiliation, he tried to ignore the way it massaged him, how he could still feel the fingers through the thick basilisk skin. He had to figure out a way to get out of here, _with _the girl.

"These are some very tight pants, little boy. And basilisk skin is pretty expensive. But they can't protect you now, can they?" Macnair demonstrated his words by hitting the clasp that had his pants unzipping themselves in a smooth motion.

Cyrus's eyes flew wide open when he felt that hand slip under his boxers and grip his member. Nausea had bile rising in his throat at the feeling of that calloused hand touching him in such an intimate place. He needed an out. _NOW_. Frantically, he tried to ignore the way his blood rushed to his extremities at the kneading hand, instead focusing on how to get himself and the girl free. He needed to-

"You like that, don't you?" Macnair said softly, and Cyrus's eyes flew back to the Death Eater's face. He felt blood rushing to his cheeks in humiliation at the knowing smirk on the man's face. The wizard did some sort of twist with his hand, and Cyrus's knees weakened at the sensation, his lips parting at the pleasure racing up his spine. _No no no_-

"You're beautiful, did you know that? Perfect skin, features of a boy reaching manhood, wind blown dirty blond hair… Those _eyes_. They're so expressive," Macnair said, his voice breathy with awe. "I can see what pleases you. They glow, you know," he said as he did the twist motion again, and Cyrus's knees very nearly collapsed.

'I'm going to puke,' he thought faintly to himself as the bile and nausea seemed to grow.

"I'm going to have you _begging_ for me to fuck you."

Oh god no, please no please no please-

"I'm going to sink my hard cock into that gorgeous little ass of yours, and you're going to come so hard you won't be able to see straight."

No no no no-

"And you'll like it. And you'll hate yourself because you enjoyed it, and you'll never be able to touch yourself again without feeling my hands on you. You'll never be able to have sex again without feeling my _dick_ inside you."

_No no no no_-

"And you'll hate yourself because you were never able to save the little girl, were you? But at the time you'd rather she have a quick death than suffer the fate that _you_ did. But afterwards you'll wonder, was it worth it? And you'll guiltily wish that it _had_ been her, because you can still feel my hands, can still feel me slamming into your hot. Little. Hole."

_NO!_

Magic burst from under his skin and sent Macnair flying away from him. Cyrus ignored the pain of that hand being torn away from his most sensitive area, fury burning under his skin and clearing the nausea from his head. With a wave of pure power, he sent Lestrange and Rookwood flying into the ward. He stalked towards the wide-eyed Macnair, eyes narrowing in irritation when the wizard cast a shielding spell around himself.

Activating his rune sight with a thought, he destroyed the spell and sent a wandless curse to shatter Macnair's wand into little pieces. Scrambling backwards, the wizard reached into his robes and pulled out Cyrus's own wand. With a devious smirk, he sent an Avada Kedavra in the terrified girl's direction. Eyes narrowing, heart jumping in his chest, he reactivated his rune sight and destroyed the spell before it could reach her. It dissolved into a green mist before disappearing.

Macnair looked terrified now, but before he could cast another curse Cyrus had conjured a dagger and sank it into the man's heart. He watched through an angry haze as blood seeped from the wound, and Macnair's eyes widened as he gurgled. The Death Eater was dead before the blood had time to fill his mouth and drip down the side of his face.

Breathing hard, Cyrus pried his fingers from the hilt as he realized just what it was he had done. Stepping away from the cooling body, he pushed down the nausea that threatened to have him spilling his stomach's contents all over the ground. With a thought, he vanished the blood from his hands and clothes, picked up his wand from where it had dropped on the ground, and turned to find the girl. He saw her watching him with wide eyes, tears streaming from her face. Seeing the last two Death Eaters stirring behind her from where they had been knocked unconscious, he walked towards the girl without bothering to assuage her fear of him. Grabbing her and pulling her, struggling, into his arms, he glanced over at the battle between the two demons and Voldemort just in time to see Voldemort scream furiously and send an Avada Kedavra his way.

He let the world disappear around him as he disapparated to the only place that felt even remotely safe in that moment.

_oOo_

He reappeared in his room and the girl tore herself away from him and hid under his bed. Letting out an angry breath, he reached down and closed his pants. He could still feel Macnair's hands on him, and the feeling of warm and slippery blood covering his hands…

"What the hell happened?"

Cyrus spun around to see Tara sitting at his table, a pile of books and paper covering its small surface.

The girl was still crying under his bed and oblivious to the world.

"She was… kidnapped." Cyrus grimaced, purposely omitting what had happened to _him_ as well.

"That doesn't explain why your pants were open."

Cyrus glared at her, reining in his magic to prevent it from destroying anything. He felt… unhinged. "It's none of your fucking business!" he shouted, ignoring the way blood rushed to his cheeks at the memory of those hands on his chest and trailing down his stomach and _touching_-

"Well fine, sorry for caring enough to ask." Tara slammed her book shut and gathered up her things with angry movements. "Get a magi-com so I won't get my head bit off every time I have to tell you something. The meeting is rescheduled to Sunday night at seven. I'll pick you up a bit before then. I trust you can make it _this_ time?" Her red eyes glowed with her ire, and her fangs glinted from between her lips as she spoke.

Cyrus scowled. "I can make it."

She glared at him and disapparated with a loud crack. Cyrus, who had never seen her disapparate before, let out another angry noise as the sound scared a whimper out of the girl hiding under his bed.

Getting down on the floor, Cyrus peeked underneath to see a pair of blue eyes glittering at him with tears. Sighing, he conjured a ball of soft light and put it off to the side, trying to make it so she didn't feel threatened by him. When she didn't try to run away or attack him, he let out a relieved breath and laid flat on the floor, putting his chin on his crossed arms and trying to appear as unthreatening as possible.

Getting tired of the staring contest, he said as softly as he could, "Excuse me, miss, but I won't hurt you. You're safe now. Yankovich sent me."

She sniffled miserably and wiped the snot from her nose with her sleeve. The blank and frightened look in her baby blue eyes changed to one of hope. "Really?" she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Cyrus nodded, or at least did the best he could with his chin on his arms. "Yep. I don't know how long it'll take for him to find us here, but you're safe under my… bed. We're in my rooms at Shikaan. I didn't think of a better place to take you in the heat of the moment."

Her eyes widened, and Cyrus felt his heart break a little at the absolutely adorable expression of fascination on her face. "Really? I've never been to Shikaan before. Mother wouldn't let me. She went to Shikaan, you see, but she never really liked it. She said I would like Beauxbatons better. Which do you think is better?" Her voice slowly grew louder with her enthusiasm.

Cyrus smiled. "I don't know, as I've never been to Beauxbatons."

She blinked. "Silly. Of course you haven't been to Beauxbatons. It's a _girls_ school."

He chuckled. "Then why did you ask my preference if it was impossible for me to have ever been there?"

She pouted and looked away. "What are your favorite classes?"

"Well… so far I like Runes and Necromancy."

Her eyes lit up again. "Necromancy? That's what Uncle Yankovich does! So, does that mean you're taught by my uncle?"

Cyrus nodded. When silence settled for a moment, he dared a question. "So, what's your name?"

She stared at him. "You rescued me without even knowing my name?"

The human was beginning to find her newfound attitude rather annoying. "I'm sure your uncle or father mentioned it, but I'm afraid I've forgotten."

She sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes, probably to remove the remnants of her tears. "Well. Marianna's my name. Marianna Farley."

"Farley? Is that your mother's last name?"

She nodded, but before Cyrus could continue with another line of questioning, he saw Yankovich walk out of the shadows of his room out of the corner of his eye. He stood up and greeted the demon with a nod.

"Where is she? Where's Marianna?"

A loud squeal came from under his bed, and Cyrus had to dodge to the side as she wiggled out from under his bed and ran to a brightly grinning Yankovich.

"Uncle!" she shouted as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Yankovich ran his hand over her dirty blond hair with a tender expression that Cyrus had never before seen on the demon's face. "Where is father, Uncle Yankovich?"

"He was following me through the shadows. You know he's slower because he's only half shadow demon."

She blinked cutely up at him. "Oh right."

At that moment, Vladovich stumbled out of the shadow created by the edge of the bookshelf. Seeing his daughter, his smile lit up with happiness. "Marianna!"

"Daddy!" she squealed, detaching herself from Yankovich and jumping at her father.

Vladovich took her into his arms and swung her around in a circle before holding her to him tightly. "Oh sweetheart," he whispered, "I'm so glad you're alright."

She squeezed him just as tightly, breaking out into quiet sobs again. Cyrus watched as Vladovich hushed her softly and kissed her forehead, running his hand over her dirty and tangled blond locks. He looked away, embarrassed, when he saw the demon shed a few tears as well. Meeting Yankovich's eyes, he tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The demon nodded his head gravely. Cyrus didn't know whether it was thanks, or just acknowledgement for what the human had done, but he didn't really care. He just hoped they hadn't seen… _that_.

"So," Cyrus began awkwardly and quietly, "what happened after I left?"

Yankovich scowled. "The bastard ran off when he saw all his dead Death Eaters."

"Didn't want you ripping his soul out again or what?" Cyrus said, trying for a joke.

The demon's lips twitched. "Perhaps. Though, it didn't work last time, so I doubt it would have worked again." His brow furrowed again in consternation. "I wish I knew the mystery of his 'immortality' so I could rip his head from his shoulders," the demon growled. "It's going to bother me for months."

Cyrus made a thoughtful noise. "Are you still dead set on killing him?"

The demon nodded. "I'll find a way to kill him. Especially after the last stunt he pulled." Suddenly, a smirk spread across his face. "I do wish I could see the look on his face when his little army of inferi turns around to gnaw on his ankles."

Cyrus couldn't hold back his snort of amusement at image. "I can see the headlines. 'Snakeman dodges the teething undead chihuahuas with surprise his lack of eyebrows can never show. Back to you, Todd.'"

Yankovich started _laughing_, and Cyrus couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. "'Thank you, Steve,'" he mockingly continued with a shit-eating grin. "'It looks like once again Snakeface has been fooled by the underdog. After his last grueling defeat by the Boy-Who-Refuses-To-Die, will he save face? Will the Flaming Rubber Chicken find his underground lair? For answers to these questions and more, never read the Daily Prophet.'"

Yankovich chuckled. "Yes, do not read the Prophet. It was torture forcing myself to look through it for information this past week." The demon shuddered. "What's the chicken reference?"

Cyrus smiled. "The Order of the Phoenix."

The demon looked amused, so Cyrus took a mocking bow. A very female voice giggled.

"He's funny, father. Can we keep him?"

The human blinked, straightening from his bow and looking over at Marianna with an odd look on his face.

"No, sweetheart," Vladovich said with a grin, petting her hair again. "Are you feeling better now? I can imagine you were quite scared. Did he… did he touch you?"

She sniffled and scrubbed at her eyes. "No, but he touched… he touched the guy who saved me."

Cyrus felt blood drain from his face as both Yankovich and Vladovich looked at him with wide eyes. He crossed his arms defensively across his chest and stubbornly stared at his kitchen. Oh, his cold box was still broken. He needed to fix that.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he found himself flinching away, immediately cursing at himself afterwards for it. He wasn't sure he wanted to decipher the look on Yankovich's face at that moment, so he kept up his mask of anger. It was better than admitting even to himself how he felt about what had just happened.

Vladovich approached him slowly, with his hands open at his sides. With an innocent smile, he held out his hand. "I just wanted to thank you for what you've done to return my daughter to me, Mr. Obsidian. It will never be forgotten. Our family owes you a debt of gratitude, so if there is anything we can do for you, please let me know."

Slowly, Cyrus uncrossed his arm and let his hand settle into the light grip. Vladovich's smile widened before he let go, and Cyrus mentally thanked the demon for not holding on for too long. His hand tingled as he returned it to his side.

Vladovich turned to Yankovich. The two clasped forearms roughly before breaking contact. "Are you going to give Obsidian anything? I know you blackmailed him into going, but he _saved_ Marianna." He gave his brother a _look_.

Yankovich scowled. "What? I'm already going to be giving him extra lessons. That's payment enough." The demon crossed his arms over his chest.

Vladovich glared at him. "That is a pittance, Yankovich. You were going to give him lessons _before_ all this happened, weren't you?" When Yankovich's scowl deepened, the other demon grinned. "I thought so. I've known you for a long time, Yankovich." The herbologist turned to his daughter and gathered her into his arms. Marianna waved at Cyrus shyly, and he smiled half-heartedly and waved back. She flushed pink, and the two disappeared with a quiet _crack_.

Cyrus's stomach growled at the same time a yawn nearly split his face in half.

"If you hurry, you may be in time for dinner," Yankovich said awkwardly, walking to the shadow next to Cyrus's bookshelf and pausing. "I'll talk to you after next class about the extra lessons. We have to figure out what time would work." Without another word, he walked through the wall.

Cyrus let out a sigh and wandered into his kitchen to grab one of his protein bars from the cupboard. He scowled at the sight of his still-smashed cold box and started stripping as he walked to his bed, the protein bar sticking out of his mouth. He finished the bar, kicked his armor and clothes into a pile on his floor, and collapsed into bed.

Sighing tiredly, he sank his face into his pillow as if that would shut out the world around him. Thoughts of vampire interrogators picking apart his mind could wait until tomorrow. His daily dose of 'shit' had been reached.

_-Toki Mirage-_

_**IF YOU'D LIKE TO READ A RIVEHN/YANKOVICH SMUT FIC THAT IS THE 'CONTINUATION' OF THIS CHAPTER, THE LINK IS ON MY PROFILE. :D**_

**Or this link: http : // toki-mirage. livejournal. com/ 7509. Html**

**PODSMUT is also now available. Profile has details.**

Wow. This chapter got _long_. (whistles) It started at 9,000, and after we edited it like 5 times it got to 13,300 words. Egads. And so much shit happened! O.o To quote Roos, because we were bitching, "It's like, the more complicated we make it, the more _shit_ we have to edit." (nods) Yep. Every time I write stuff, we have to consider the consequences and realism, and many things get cut or morph into monstrous subplots. (sweatdrops)

And I'd rather not hear about how much Cyrus's life sucks, thanks. I wrote it, so I _know_. Flying crap is what makes stories interesting, people. If you wanna bitch about it, go talk to my muse, Roos.

And lastly, I'm getting into a groove! Woot! Thus ends the Zombie Army Arc, and so begins the Amelia Arc. For those of you who have been waiting to see the fallout of Dalesh's death, the beginning of it will be in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Interrogators

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Fifteen:

_oOo_

Cyrus slept in on Sunday, refusing to get out of bed until late morning. When he finally pulled himself out of his sheets, he went for the shower. He tried to wash away the grime of the previous day and the feeling of fingers on his skin for half an hour before he decided he was as clean as he was going to get.

Trying to forget, he grabbed all his homework and went to the library after eating a big breakfast. Tara stood behind the counter, reading a book, but Cyrus didn't bother to say hi and she didn't look up even though she probably knew he was there. Letting out a relieved breath when he'd walked past her without any explosions of anger, he picked one of the farther corners of the library and set himself up. As he'd spent all of Saturday helping Yankovich raise the zombies, he'd managed to get next to no homework done. Luckily he had no Necromancy essays to finish, as Yankovich had skipped his classes the past week, but he still had all his other classes to consider.

He must have been working on his Healing assignment for three hours before he was interrupted.

"Cyrus!" Xanthir called out, clapping the human on the shoulder.

Cyrus flinched at the contact, but quickly covered it up with surprise. He turned around with a genuine smile. Xanthir was always a chipper face. "Hey Xan. How's it going?"

The werewolf plunked himself down across from Cyrus, and Yalmireth sat next to the werewolf and said a soft hello. Their movements were comfortable as they pulled out their homework and sat down. Yalmireth had found Xanthir and he in the library two months ago, after Cyrus had gone to Hogwarts to find his phoenix feather, intending to repay some 'debt' for Cyrus healing his leg. They'd been studying and hanging out together ever since.

"Oh ya know, this 'n' that. I've been dyin' without you here to help me with Rivehn's homework for the weekend. The project he assigned was eeevil! We're only just learnin' how transfigurations work, why did he have to give us somethin' this hard?"

Cyrus smiled. After the quiz they'd had on Friday, reviewing the year so far, Rivehn had given them an assignment that they weren't supposed to hand in right away. They had a week to figure it out and ask him questions in class. "I haven't looked at it yet. Is it really that hard?"

Xanthir stared at him. "What d'you mean you haven't looked at it yet? You always do your Runes homework first." He looked down at the papers in front of Cyrus and swiped one of them with an inhumanly fast motion. "What the hell is this? Anatomy? Eeew, I'm glad I decided not to take Healing class. Do you actually have to memorize all this stuff?"

The human's lips quirked in amusement. "Well, yes. You have to have an understanding of how the body works if you're to heal the damage," he said, stealing it back with wandless magic. "This is one of the larger projects Healer Svea's assigned. I'm almost done, so do try not to destroy all my hard work with your brutish hands."

Xanthir gaped at him. "Ah! I never!"

Yalmireth raised an eyebrow. "Never? I beg to differ. You ripped my homework last week."

The werewolf pouted. "That was because you wouldn't let go!"

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "For good reason, obviously." He smirked and turned to Yalmireth. "The trick is to use Wandless magic, that way he can't anticipate you."

Xanthir crossed his arms and pouted at them.

The demon's enthusiasm evaporated like a popped balloon. "I can see how that would work, but unfortunately I'm not as skilled in wandless magic as you," he said in a soft tenor.

Cyrus blinked. "Oh? You've got to be able to…" he trailed off when the demon shook his head. "But wait, we've gotten to the more complicated spells in class, surely you have to be able to manage a wandless summoning." When the demon shook his head again, Cyrus gaped. "What? But how are you going to pass the class?"

Yalmireth shrugged and looked down at his homework miserably.

Xanthir patted him on the shoulder. "I've tried to help him, but I'm not that good in Wandless either. I do well enough to pass the class, but I can't explain how to do anything, or how it works, so Yal here still doesn't get it."

The human frowned. "Well, why didn't you say something earlier? I'm helping Xanthir in Runes, so I could help you in Wandless Magic."

Yalmireth looked up from his homework. "Really?"

Cyrus nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I won't have time today because I'm swamped, but we could start having short sessions on Monday or something."

The demon smiled. "Thanks."

"Where _have_ you been, anyway, Cyrus?" Xanthir interrupted. "I tried to find you yesterday, but you just disappeared off the map, and when I asked Tara she got all angry-face." His nose scrunched at the memory.

Cyrus looked down at his homework. "I was busy."

There was silence for a moment as he continued to do his Healing homework. "C'mon man, you gotta give me more than _that_."

Cyrus looked up and glared, but held back the nasty comment that had been bubbling to the surface at the taken aback look on Xanthir's face. The human sighed and looked back down at his homework. "It was a busy and shitty day. Can we just leave it at that?"

"Okay… but if you ever wanna talk 'bout it, we got open ears."

The human just nodded and went back to finishing his assignment. The silence at the table was awkward for a short while until Xanthir started asking him Runes questions and they broke out into debates about things as random as how many swords the Potions teacher had. Xanthir and Yalmireth, the demon less so just because Cyrus hadn't known him for as long, had become good friends during the time he'd known them. He was beginning to feel as comfortable with them as he had with Hermione and Ron before, but after everything that had happened he wasn't as open anymore. The two non-humans weren't either, so sometimes subjects came up that were stubbornly avoided; however, for the most part they managed to get along and enjoy hanging out with each other.

Cyrus managed to finish all his homework before dinnertime, so he used the time afterwards to eat and don his armor once again. He was just double-checking that he had everything he needed (including that ruby he hadn't given back to Rivehn yet) when a knock sounded on his door.

He blinked and stared at the offending wooden object. Had someone actually just _knocked?_ Cautiously, he walked towards the door and opened it slowly. Tara stood on the other side.

"Er, hi," he said awkwardly. Since when did Tara knock?

She inclined her head. "You ready to leave?"

Cyrus nodded and left his room, locking the door and warding it with the elementary spells he knew. He couldn't wait until he knew how to create a proper set of wards. "Side-along?" he asked.

Tara nodded stiffly and put her hand on his elbow. They disappeared with a squeezing sensation.

Cyrus blinked in surprise when the place they appeared in was familiar. It took him a moment, but he finally recognized it. The room on the top floor on Shelby's Blood Bath looked different without all the vampire bodies milling about with drinks. It was far less welcoming now, with five other vampires sitting together on a group of chairs and a couch. They watched Cyrus and Tara with sharp eyes, but it was the vampire in the middle of the group that stood. He gave a short, mocking bow to Tara before turning his attention to Cyrus.

"So, this is the human?"

Tara's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes."

The vampire, long and lanky from his hair to his limbs, raised an eyebrow and examined Cyrus with eyes the color of dried blood. "I see. Well, if you could take a seat, we'll begin the… interview."

Tara took a step forward. "As he is my donor, I have full rights to ask what… techniques, you will be using in the 'interview'."

The vampire looked annoyed. "Very well. As we don't have much time, Tara of the Bast clan," he began mockingly, "we will be searching his mind for the evidence we require."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. Like _hell_ they were. He was glad Tara seemed to feel the same way, if her expression of disgust was any indication.

"You will _not_ be tearing through his mind looking for your so called 'evidence', interrogator. You have been authorized for an _interview_. As he has killed no vampire under your jurisdiction, you have no right to rape his mind."

The expression of irritation grew, and the vampire flashed his fangs with a soft hiss. "I see you have done your homework, little Bast, but _you_ are the one who killed Dalesh of Akkad. From your previous 'interviews', as well as from the testimony of others from that night, it was your _human_ that made the first attack."

Tara's expression was furious. "Wait just a minute, so you just chose to completely ignore the fact that Dalesh implied he was involved in the raping and killing of one Amelia of the Bast clan?!"

The vampire raised a blasé eyebrow. "The killing of the Bast vampire has nothing to do with this investigation. This is about how you killed Dalesh of Akkad without due cause." When Tara's magic crackled in her anger, the vampire smirked. "Careful, _Bast_. You wouldn't want to appear threatening and impede the investigation of licensed interrogators, would you?"

She hissed, but reigned in her magic. "You aren't here to find the truth of the situation. You're here to cover up for Dalesh,_ again_. I will be contacting the Bast Intelligence Squad, and we will begin our own case to solve this dispute of opinions."

The vampire waved a hand. "BIS? You do that, little girl. In the meantime, I will be looking through the human's mind for our evidence."

Tara scowled. "As you have no right to look through his mind, you can't request he let you in by our laws."

The interrogator smirked and snapped his fingers. Two vampires appeared behind Tara and put hands on her shoulders. She hissed and looked ready to fight for a moment, but seemed to think better of it. She looked at Cyrus, and he could see the apology in her eyes. He inclined his head slightly. Even though they had been fighting for the past couple days, she had done her homework into the laws to try to keep him safe.

"You can't do this, _Akkad!_ It's illegal!"

The vampire shrugged with a smug expression. "It's true that by our laws he's not required to lower his shields to let us search his mind, but if he can't protect it from us then it falls outside of the print, Little Miss Tara. You should practice reading between the lines."

She hissed at him, her eyes glowing red with anger.

Cyrus braced himself, his magic swirling under his skin in preparation as the interrogator walked up to him. So, he didn't have to open his mind to the bastard. And if even _Rivehn_ hadn't been able to find his mind when it was submerged, this vampire shouldn't be able to… right?

"Oh, the little human knows some magic tricks." He smirked, and Cyrus felt the suffocating aura of the vampire settle around him. It was more powerful than Tara's, but Cyrus managed to throw it off with the technique Tara had taught him not long after he became her donor.

The vampire's face darkened, and before Cyrus could so much as twitch the vampire had used his inhuman speed to appear in front of Cyrus and grip his chin with iron fingers. Revulsion and nausea raced up his spine, and ghost-like fingers traced over his skin. He tried to pull his face away, but the grip was too tight.

"Let's see what your mind has to hide, little human," the interrogator muttered with a sadistic grin.

Cyrus stared furiously into those eyes, waiting for pain or something. He gasped as the feeling of the vampire's magic entered the channels in his head. Blood rushed to his face as pleasure raced through his body at the contact. Sheer horror at enjoying the sensation of this bastard trying to rape his mind had his magic churning angrily beneath his skin. If he just attacked him, though, the vampire might kill him. The mixture of fear, pleasure, and adrenaline had his head swimming.

The vampire's face darkened, and Cyrus gasped as he felt that slowly gliding magic turn sharp and start digging relentlessly in search of a mind that had been moved. Giving him a hell of a headache, shockwaves of pain spread through his head for a few moments before the vampire grabbed him by the shoulders and _squeezed_. He hissed in pain.

"You sent a _Golem?_" the interrogator asked, furious as he continued to squeeze. Cyrus cried out when he felt and heard his bones crack under the pressure. What the hell was he talking about?

"Stop that! You're hurting him! And what the fuck are you talking about, a Golem?!" Tara shouted, pulling against the two vampires holding her back.

The interrogator increased his strength and Cyrus's vision turned white. "He's rather real for a Golem. I'm impressed with your design, but you shouldn't have been so arrogant. He _has no mind_, therefore he's nothing but a Golem. The last person who tried to pull this trick on me is still rotting in our dungeons, _Bast_."

"You idiot! He's a goddamn first year student at Shikaan, where the hell would he have learned to make a Golem?! Let him go!"

The vampire scowled. "Stop pretending, Tara. I'm sure he could have hired someone to make it for him. I guess I'll just have to kill it for you to take me seriously."

Cyrus's eyes widened, and self-preservation made his magic explode outward in a shockwave. There was _no_ way he was going to just get offed by this bat-shit crazy vampire. Calling up his full body bubble shield, he let his body collapse to the ground, as the interrogator wasn't holding him up anymore, and started healing the damage. His collarbones, or clavicles as he'd learned in Healing class, had been broken on both sides. He hadn't believed the books when they said how much a broken collarbone _hurt_. White spots spinning in his vision, he'd only just moved the bones back into place to heal them with magic when the vampire hit his shield with a kick and sent him flying backwards. Panicking, he barely managed to get out a cushioning charm before he hit the wall. The charm didn't stop his body from shifting around however, and he screamed at the pain of his clavicles shifting out of alignment again.

"GODDAMNIT! CAN'T YOU SEE HE'S INJURED?! CALM THE FUCK DOWN!"

Cyrus tuned out the argument after that, focusing on moving his clavicles back into place and healing the broken bone. The process was prolonged when he had to catch all the shards of bone that had broken off and put them back in order. It took a minute, but he finally healed the bone, the damaged tissues, and the broken blood vessels. Opening his eyes and looking up, he saw Tara thrashing on the floor, the two vampires sitting on top of her and holding her in place. Her fangs had extended, and her magic surrounded her with a soft red glow.

The human flinched when the rusty-eyed vampire appeared right in front of him, wondering if the bastard was going to try to kick him through the wall this time. The vampire poked his shield with a perplexed expression.

"Either you are a very rich little boy, or you're real. Few people can make a Golem with bones that break and its own source of magic like this."

Cyrus stared back into those eyes, trying to hide the terror that raced through him by being so close to this vampire again. They were ridiculously strong, and powerful. He hated how weak he was compared to them. He could take down a squad of Voldemort's weaker Death Eaters in minutes, eventually come out on top against some of the Inner Circle, and does that skill hold up against a vampire? _No._ And he hated himself for fearing this asshole, but he couldn't forget exactly how close he'd been do death. All because the vampire thought he was a fucking 'Golem'.

"You smell pretty real, too."

"That's because he _is_ real, you imbecile!"

The Akkad vampire looked over his shoulder and hissed. Cyrus watched as Tara's face became mutinous, but she closed her mouth with a click. Rust for eyes turned back around and poked Cyrus's shield again, some of his ire replaced by… curiosity?

"Don't see many people capable of holding one of these up. You must have quite a bit of magic… for a human."

Were vampires capable of complimenting humans without insulting them in the same sentence?

The vampire's curious expression turned annoyed. "I need my interview, human. Perhaps we should stop playing games?"

Cyrus stared at him. "Games? Breaking my bones and tossing me around like a rag doll is playing _games?_"

The vampire smirked. "You're in our world now, human."

Cyrus fingered the ruby in his pocket that he hadn't given back to Rivehn, contemplating escape. But then, even if he did manage to get the hell out of there, he was still fucked. They could find him. "What the hell do you want, then?"

"You will let me into your mind to find the evidence I'm looking for."

Cyrus mentally scoffed. Like that was going to happen. The vampire would take what he wanted and twist it into a mess that would get his ass killed, if not worse. And on top of that, it wasn't like he had 'normal' secrets. "Not going to happen."

The vampire grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, and even with Cyrus's cushioning charm the gravitation force had his body swishing around like jell-o in a bottle. "You _will_ give me what I want, human. Or I will shatter this little shield of yours and break your limbs one by one until you tell me what I want to know!" To punctuate his statement, the vampire slammed him against the wall again. With the amount of force being exerted against it, you'd think it would have broken by now. Unless the architecture was enhanced to withstand vampire brutality.

"You can't do that, Akkad! It's against the laws!"

"I _am_ the law, little Bast. I am the head of ACIF."

Tara hissed. "If you try to kill him to get him to let you into your mind, I can take it before _our_ law. There are lines, Akkad. Go get a fucking court order, and we'll see you then."

He disappeared from in front of Cyrus, and the next thing the human knew he saw Tara hanging from the vampire's grip on her neck. She glared at him, flashing her fangs. He hissed right in her face. "I do not follow your orders, you little insect."

She smirked. "By law you are not sanctioned to be carrying out our execution, so I suggest you go get legal. You're wasting everyone's time here trying to scare us into giving you what you want."

He growled low in his chest, and for a moment Cyrus almost believed he would take off Tara's head with a swipe of his arm. But then, the vampire just let her go and she landed on her feet. His scowl was monstrous. "I will get my court order, little Bast, and it will be your head I will enjoy taking the most."

She just scowled at him, looking like she wanted to bite off something caustic but holding herself back.

"Team, we're leaving," he barked out to his subordinates. He turned back to Tara. "If you're lucky, you have a week before the paperwork goes through. I suggest you take what pleasures you can out of life, before it is snuffed under my claws." He disappeared with an angry _crack_, and his team followed.

Cyrus let out the breath he'd been holding and slumped against the wall, eyes closed. Taking a deep breath, he forced back the stinging in his eyes. God, but there was just so _much_. And it never ended. He'd been so close to dying – _was _so close to dying. He could get killed over this little dispute. And he didn't want to die, he had too many plans. Too much to learn. He still had to kill Voldemort, dodge Dumbledore, fall in… He cut himself off, pushing the depressing thoughts away. They had a dead vampire to convict.

Taking in a breath that he would never admit was shaky, he climbed to his feet. Hardening his resolve, he walked towards Tara.

She spoke before he could even open his mouth. "Are you alright?"

Cyrus blinked, surprised by the genuine concern he could see in her eyes. "Er, yeah. I'm alright. I managed to heal the… the broken bones."

Tara nodded, biting her lip and averting her eyes. They stood in awkward silence for a moment before she tried to speak again. "I… I just wanted…" Her brow furrowed with frustration, and Cyrus took a cautious step backwards. He wasn't going to get banged around again, if he had anything to say about it. She saw his movement and her eyes widened. "Wha- Are you… are you afraid of me?" she asked incredulously. "Why?"

Cyrus shrugged defensively. "Well, it's just… most vampires I seem to meet nowadays want to eat me, or kill me." He paused awkwardly, fingering his wand. "It's nothing personal."

Tara took a step forward, opening her mouth to say something, and Cyrus couldn't stop himself from flinching backwards at the sudden movement. When she actually looked _hurt_, he frowned. "I…" she began haltingly, eyebrows furrowed as she searched his eyes for… something. "I wouldn't hurt you, Cyrus."

He raised his eyebrows. "What about the time you slammed me against the wall, huh?"

She twitched. "I was… angry, and frustrated, with all of this Dalesh stuff. I've been stressed lately. I'm not going to _kill_ you, so stop looking at me like that." She glared and crossed her arms over her chest.

Cyrus wanted to tell her that glaring at him like he was her number one enemy wasn't inspiring any confidence in him, but wisely kept his mouth sealed shut. "Right. So, what do we do about Dalesh? I mean, about proving that he… did it."

Tara tapped a finger on her chin, pacing across the space in front of him in thought. "Well, we need a source of information. Who might know that he did it?"

Cyrus blinked as a thought struck him. "_He_ might know."

"What? Who?"

"Dalesh." And then a brilliant idea struck him. "Hey wait, even better, Amelia! We could raise Amelia!"

Tara's expression darkened. "That's impossible. She… there's no body to raise."

Cyrus winced. "Oh…" he said awkwardly, not sure he wanted to dare asking why that was.

"You think you can raise Dalesh?"

The human shrugged. "I don't know. We've only been raising muggles so far in class, and Yankovich mentioned once that raising magical beings was more… difficult. But we could try. If we took the proper precautions."

"If you can't, we can always hire a professional." Her eyes lit up for a moment before dimming. "Shit. Now we just need to find his body and steal it. From the Akkad clan." She let air out through her teeth in a hiss. "Fuck. That's going to be… tricky, to say the least."

"So, how are we going to find it, first off?"

Tara bit her lip. "Well… he might have already been sealed in a tomb. Or buried in a cemetery. Or he might have been cremated."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Damn. Can you find out?"

She taped a finger on her chin again in thought. "Maybe. I have a few… acquaintances in the Akkad clan. I'll see if they can dig something up."

The human nodded. "Sounds good."

Tara made a thoughtful noise and stared into space for a few moments before nodding to herself. "Yes. That should work." She looked at him. "You should go back to Shikaan, and I'll get in contact with you when I have more information. Do you have a magi-com yet?"

He blinked. "Er, no. Where do I get one?"

"Hmm… there should be a store in Gemini Square that sells them. The only place I know about for sure is here in Other Realm, and I'm sure you don't want to try navigating _that_ market." She grinned. "You might accidentally sell yourself."

Cyrus's eyebrows shot up. "Sell myself?"

She nodded. "Yep. Now, hurry up and apparate out. I don't want to leave until I'm sure some vampire hasn't stolen and molested you."

Cyrus felt the blood drain out of his face at the comment, fear racing up his spine at the thought of someone t-

"Cyrus? You alright? You went white as a sheet there."

The human looked at Tara and tried to smile, but knew it came out weak. He purposely ignored the calculating glint in the vampire's eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'll see you later." He disapparated with a _crack_, not bothering to lessen the noise.

_oOo_

Monday. One day closer to the coming Sunday, and one day closer to the court order that would have a vampire ripping through his mind and then cutting off his head. One day closer to the end of the-

"Cyrus?"

The human snapped out of his morose thoughts and turned to look at the person who had joined him at his table in the Main Hall. He smiled half-heartedly. "Hey Yalmireth."

The demon sat down across from him, his feline pupils contracted to slits in the lighting of the Main Hall. "Hello. Is everything alright? You look a little… down."

Cyrus let out an explosive sigh. "Yeah, well. There's just… it's been a rough couple days."

The demon's eyebrows rose. "Couple days? I thought it was just Saturday."

The human snorted. "I wish. It just keeps getting…" he took a slow breath as his voice started cracking. "Worse," he finished softly. He stared down at his food and pushed his peas around on his plate.

"Do you… want to talk about it?"

Cyrus bit his lip and sighed. "I… I just want to forget, you know? But forgetting doesn't make it… doesn't change the fact that it happened. And I…" to his horror, he found his voice cracking again. Biting his lip, he stabbed his peas more forcefully. He was not a girl. He would not cry like one. Especially not in front of the entire school.

He was so out of it he didn't even notice that Yalmireth had stood and moved around the small circular table so he was sitting next to Cyrus. He _did_ notice, however, the fingers that touched his hand, and he ripped his arm away and stared blankly at the demon for a moment until the image of Macnair faded and he focused on feline, steel-gray eyes that were watching him with concern.

"What…" Yalmireth began softly. "What happened? You didn't used to-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Cyrus bit out quietly, standing up to leave the table. He left the Main Hall without looking back, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Necromancy didn't start for another fifteen minutes, but he didn't want to stay in such a crowded place any longer, so he figured he'd go to the library or back to his room.

A hand grabbed his shoulder in the hall outside the Main Hall, and Cyrus couldn't stop his body from flinching away from the touch. Turning, he saw Yalmireth watching him with calm gray eyes, his brow furrowed slightly with concern. "Something happened," the demon said softly, his hesitance disappearing under the assertive set of his shoulders. "Something bad," Yalmireth continued. "You weren't so… adverse to touch before."

Cyrus glanced around to see if anyone was listening. A pair of students were chatting at the edge of the corridor, but there were werewolves and vampires and other beings with incredibly sharp senses all over the place. "I don't want to talk about it," he repeated firmly, setting his jaw stubbornly.

Yalmireth followed his gaze to the two chattering students and frowned. "Perhaps this is not a good location," the demon said.

"Or a good time," Cyrus cut in, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. "I have class in ten minutes."

The demon nodded. "I understand. When is your last class?"

Cyrus stared. "I never said I wanted to-"

"You are going to talk to me," the demon stated, and Cyrus's mouth fell open, completely taken aback. "This is not healthy. So you will tell me what your last class is, and I will meet you there afterwards. Then, you are going to teach me wandless magic for half an hour. After that, we will discuss what happened on Saturday."

Cyrus spluttered. "Y-you can't just tell me what to do like that!"

The demon raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "I am your friend. You have something you need to talk about, so we will talk."

"And what if I don't want to talk to you about it?! You can't just make decisions like that!"

Yalmireth took him, gently, by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall. Cyrus felt his whole body light up with fear, phantom fingers racing along his skin and over his most sensitive areas. As he began to shake, he felt shame burn his cheeks, and he had to look away from those steady eyes, but not before he saw the sorrow in them. "See?" the demon said in his soft tenor. "You are frightened of me. Of my _touch_." Cyrus shuddered. "That, my friend… makes me worry for you. So we will talk. Please, will you meet me after your last class?"

Cyrus turned to look at Yalmireth and refuse him point blank, but the look in the demon's eyes had his words dying in his mouth. Why did the demon look so pained? "Why?" Cyrus whispered, his body still shivering under the hands on his shoulders, at the proximity of Yalmireth to his face. "Why do you care?"

Yalmireth looked affronted. "You are my friend, of course." The tumultuous gray darkened slightly. "Of course I care."

Cyrus bit his lip and looked away from those eyes of molten steel. "Fine," he acquiesced. "I'll meet you after. But we're not doing any 'talking'. I'll teach you wandless magic and then we'll do homework." He looked up and stared into those eyes stubbornly.

Yalmireth looked both amused and resigned. "Of course, Cyrus. When is your last class?"

"Two periods from now. Animagus."

The demon nodded and pulled away, and Cyrus couldn't keep the relief off his face as the touch left him. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder – really, he should have just shrunk it – and hurried off to Necromancy, not once glancing back to look at Yalmireth.

_oOo_

"Obsidian! Your turn next."

Cyrus sighed from where he stood at the back of the class. Yankovich had been calling them forward by name today, not asking for volunteers. And it was almost as if the demon was trying to make up for lost time because they were learning how to raise multiple dead at once. The human didn't know if this was because of what happened on Saturday inspiring Yankovich's lesson plan, or whether the demon had originally planned it or not, but it didn't feel like the class was ready or comfortable with the exercise. Most had failed, so the class had taken to drawing salt circles to protect themselves from the flesh-eating zombies.

Cyrus vowed from that day forth to carry multiple bags of rock salt in his bottomless bag. You _never knew_ when a zombie incursion could threaten your life. After this past lesson, he sure as hell wasn't tempting fate.

"Obsidian! This century, please," the demon barked.

Cyrus shuffled to the front of the class, careful not to break any salt circles as he went. Coming to a stop in front of Yankovich, he repressed the urge to kick a rock. He wasn't _that_ childish. He was just… well, he'd rather not be in class that day. Or the rest of the week, for that matter.

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "Well? If you've been paying attention, you should get this on the first try."

The human let out a silent sigh and closed his eyes. Drawing on his death magic, he managed to pull out two threads and wrap them around one of the dead bodies beneath him. It twitched and was about to rise, but Yankovich grabbed his shoulder and his concentration was completely shot. He slid out from under the hand and opened his eyes to glare at the demon.

Yankovich frowned at him, an odd look in his eyes. "I was going to tell you that this is not an exercise of raising bodies one by one, but at least five at a time. Try again." The hand that had been floating in the air fell back to the demon's side.

Cyrus nodded cautiously and stayed where he had moved, keeping some distance between the demon and himself. Closing his eyes again, he focused on his death magic and drew out some more threads. He tried to distribute them into the bodies below him, but the threads dissolved before they could settle in the bodies. Letting out an angry breath, he tried to draw on more death magic at a time and was stumped. Fuck. Why the hell couldn't he pull out more? After he channeled all that death magic for the raising on Saturday, he _knew_ he had more death magic than this. Drawing himself deeper, he filtered all his natural magic back into his core and let his channels fill with death magic. He smiled at the familiar cool power circulating under his skin, and extended it into the earth below him.

And proceeded to cuss wildly as the entire ground beneath him came alive.

"Shit!" he heard Yankovich yell. "Class! Get the hell out of here! Obsidian, stay behind!" There was silence for a moment, and then Cyrus's eyes snapped open as he heard bodies clawing their way out of the ground. "NOW YOU IDIOTS!"

The class apparated out pretty quickly after that. Cyrus turned to Yankovich, eyes wide as he saw dead bodies of varying decomposition start coming towards them. He felt like he was in a horror movie. "What do I do?!" he asked desperately, jumping to the side and just barely avoiding the teeth of a particularly dead looking zombie. Freaking out, he tried to call a shield spell into existence around him and was met with nothing.

Nothing.

Eyes wide, he dodged another zombie. "My magic isn't working! Why isn't my magic working?!" He held his hands out towards the zombies and tried to cast an incendio with no luck.

"Obsidian! Calm down and get your ass inside one of the salt circles!"

Dodging another zombie – just barely – Cyrus made a break for the closest circle. Just as he was about to jump across, a hand caught his foot and he face planted into the dirt. When he felt teeth sink into his ankle, he shouted and lashed out with the death magic flowing through his channels. It didn't help. The zombie's teeth sank even deeper into his ankle and he _screamed_.

Abruptly, the teeth were ripped from his flesh and he was thrown ass over teakettle into the circle. Gripping his ankle, he tried to heal it with his magic and only ended up aggravating the wound even more with his death magic.

Biting his lip in pain and frustration, he looked around to see dead body after dead body, all clawing at the edge of the salt circle like men dying of thirst and he was the oasis. Wide-eyed, he caught a glimpse of the broken line of salt from where he'd been tossed over it. Swearing, he moved forward to fix it but was too late. A zombie crawled its way through, and Cyrus quickly scuttled backwards and almost went over the other side of the salt circle.

He was now a hundred percent sure he was going to carry rocksalt on him everywhere he went. If he survived.

Suddenly, just as the zombie was about to grab him, a blast of magic sent the other inferi flying away from him, destroying the salt circle at the same time. Before he could panic again, two hands grabbed him under the arms and lifted him into the air. He watched the ground move farther away with some confusion.

Finally, his mind kicked in as he heard the swish of wings and felt each jerk of gravity as they moved up and down in the air. For a moment, instinct grabbed him and he tried to wiggle out of the arms. He hated the feeling of hands touching him, digging into his flesh and-

"Stop. Fucking. Moving. Do you want me to drop you?" Yankovich's familiar voice filtered into his ear with a warm puff of air.

Cyrus went tense as a bowstring. He felt trapped. He didn't want to land in the frothing mouth of a zombie, but he was by no means comfortable in the air either. Absently, he noticed he was hyperventilating, but he couldn't seem to stop even as the world began to turn gray at the edges. Before he could react, he was spun around in the air, and for one painful second he felt _nothingness_ under his feet.

And then two arms grabbed him, and he was held flush against his Necromancy teacher. His mind went blank for a moment, but the burst of fear had shocked him out of his hyperventilation. Staring into dark blue eyes, he was horrified to feel his body tingle at the heat given off by the demon's body, and the rock-hard muscles beneath the demon's clothes. Yankovich was one of the teachers that very rarely wore robes, as they caused trouble with his wings more often than not.

Said demon had raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you finished having your little panic attack? We have over three hundred muggles we have to put back in the ground. I suggest you focus."

Cyrus nodded shakily, trying to ignore the feeling of Yankovich holding him over twenty feet in the air.

"Now. Why can't you use your magic?"

Cyrus shook his head. "I don't know."

The demon scowled. "Yes you do. You had no problem conjuring that mattress for yourself after you channeled two days ago. So _think_. What did you do differently then?"

Frowning, the human tried to remember, tried to ignore the body flush with his own. Finally, he caved and asked, "Do you really have to hold me like this?"

Yankovich looked entirely unimpressed. "I could dangle you from your ankle, unless you've got a broom secreted away in your bags somewhere."

Cyrus swallowed. "No, I don't have a broom."

"Then stop bitching and do as I told you."

The human bit his lip and did as Yankovich asked. What had Cyrus done before? Casting his mind back, he finally remembered. Letting out a soft curse, he called his death magic back into his core and let his natural magic run freely through his channels again.

How could he have forgotten something so simple? Oh yeah. Zombies were munching on him. Thinking about zombies made him aware of the frissons of pain shooting up his leg. He suppressed a hiss of pain. "Okay. What do we do now?"

"You've found your magic again?" Cyrus nodded. "Alright, what happened then?"

"I forgot to take my death magic out of my channels and fill them with natural magic again."

Yankovich was silent for a moment, so the human turned to look into the demon's eyes and saw a calculating glint. "Why did you need your death magic to fill your channels?"

"I couldn't pull out enough death magic with my natural magic in my channels."

"Hm. And how did you know to do this?"

Cyrus paused. "I don't know. I just did it, before, when I had to channel for the raising two days ago. I decided to try it again today and see if I could raise the zombies that way." He bit his lip. "What went wrong, exactly?"

"You dumped a shitload of death magic into the ground without controlling where it was going, and without creating threads to connect you to the dead you were raising."

Cyrus blinked. "Oh. Shit."

Yankovich's eyes crinkled slightly at the corners in amusement. "Shit is right. And now I'm going to have to show you how to fix this in case it happens again."

The human nodded and looked away, embarrassed.

"And you and I are having private lessons twice a week from now on. I'm not letting you touch another body during class until I've already gone through the same exercise with you myself, understand? If you weren't so damn useful, this last episode would have convinced me to seal your death magic for good."

Eyes wide, Cyrus turned his head to look at his teacher. "You can't do that!"

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "And who would stop me, hm? The school? They would follow my advice. The council? They would either agree with me or steal you and claim they had nothing to do with it in order to use you as a channel day and night."

The human's eyes widened. "W-what? They can't just abduct me, can they?"

"Well… they probably wouldn't. Most necromancers like to keep to themselves, so as long as you manage to get your death magic under control there's no reason for the council to step in."

Relief slackened his body, and for a moment he was fretting over something worse than physical contact with Yankovich. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. Now, you need to put these zombies back in the ground. Reach out to them with your mind and connect a thread to the death magic inside them."

Cyrus took in a breath and closed his eyes. Ignoring his physical discomfort, he pulled his magic back into his core and flooded his body with death magic again. Reaching out towards the zombies, he tried to connect to them all and failed miserably. "There's too many of them," he muttered after his third failed attempt.

"Do it one by one. And then try two. Etcetera."

Cyrus did as ordered, connecting to one of the zombies. He felt the thread snap into place, so he had the zombie go back to rest with a silent command of his will as he had done in previous classes. He felt it go to sleep under the ground and moved on to the next body.

By the time he had put all three hundred zombies back in the ground, he could attach himself to five dead at a time. When he opened his eyes again, Yankovich was setting them back on the ground, and Cyrus gratefully released his arms and took a few steps away from the demon. Looking around at the messed up salt circles and the occasional broken tombstone, he wondered if they could get in trouble for property damage.

"I want you to go straight to Healer Svea after this, okay?" When Cyrus nodded, Yankovich continued. "Good. Are you free Tuesday and Thursday nights at eight?"

Cyrus blinked and brought himself back to the real world. "Uh, I think so." At Yankovich's expression, he amended, "I'm pretty sure. Yes. I'm free."

The demon nodded. "Good. We'll be having your private lessons then. I want to get you to the point where you don't explode like that again asap. I _do_ have other things to do."

Cyrus nodded. "Where do I meet you?"

"Outside my office. I'll see you tomorrow," Yankovich said before disappearing into the ground. Cyrus blinked and stared at the grass-covered spot the demon had disappeared into. Could he really shadow walk through grass shadows?

Thoughts for another day. He needed to go to Animagus class, and then he had to… He winced. Yalmireth. Letting out an explosive sigh, he apparated out of the graveyard.

_oOo_

"I still don't understand."

Cyrus let out a sigh, but kept the comment he was about to make trapped behind his teeth at the kicked puppy look on Yalmireth's face. Closing his eyes for a moment to calm himself – it really wasn't fair for him to take his shitty day out on the demon – Cyrus tried to think of another way to explain it.

"Okay. So, we've established that you have poor control over your magic wandlessly. Does it feel like it's difficult to _access_ or difficult to _use._"

The miserable look increased even more. "I don't know."

Cyrus nodded absently. He really wanted to take a shower, but he couldn't until Yalmireth was gone. After Svea had healed his zombie bite, he'd been itching for a shower all Animagus class. And even know he could feel the tingle of hands. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he tried to figure out away to make Yalmireth understand.

Sitting down on the end of his bed, Cyrus called a ball of light into his hands. "Let's take this step by step. Hold your hands out in front of you and conjure a light."

Yalmireth frowned and held his hands out from of him from where he sat on one of Cyrus's rickety chairs. A light sputtered into existence for a moment before dying with a miserable pop. The demon let out a miserable sigh and dropped his hands to his lap. "I'm hopeless. I'm never going to get this."

Cyrus hopped off his perch and let his own light die in his hands. "You _can_ get this, Yalmireth. It's just a matter of finding the right method for you." Conjuring a chair to sit on, he planted himself in front of the demon. Putting his hands on Yalmireth's own, he decided to try a method that had been floating at the back of his mind for a while. His magic sensitivity. He could 'sense' inside that snake before, as well as see Ashawyn attaching the channel during the raising, so why couldn't it help him now? He really needed to get into the library to research it.

"Try again," he said softly, focusing on opening himself as he had when learning how to channel. It took a moment, but he felt the spark of magic zipping down the channels in Yalmireth's arms when the demon tried to summon light again. He frowned, not knowing exactly how to describe what he was 'seeing'. "Try it with your wand."

There was silence for a moment before one of the hands was pulled from his own and came back with a wand. Cyrus put one hand on Yalmireth's own and the other on his arm. This time, when he watched the light spell, he could see the same movement of magic, but the spell came out just fine. He frowned. "Again." The demon did as he asked, and finally Cyrus caught it. "Oh. Well, that is interesting."

"What's interesting?" Yalmireth asked softly.

Cyrus opened his eyes to look at him. "It's the flow of your magic. It's uneven. When you cast a spell with a wand, it doesn't matter whether the flow of magic is even for most spells, as the magic collects in the wand and is then released with the casting of the spell. With wandless magic, however, there is no focus to act as a reservoir for the magic and _then_ release it. You simply feed the magic for the spell directly from your hand, or any other body part. So one of the hard parts of wandless magic is being able to measure exactly how much you need, and being able to channel it evenly and almost all at once."

Yalmireth frowned. "So… what must I do to make it work?"

The human frowned thoughtfully. "Hm… You're going to have to learn how to channel your magic more precisely. I can help you with that, because I can tell you exactly what's going wrong as you do it, and then you can learn how it feels to cast the spells properly."

The demon smiled, his eyes losing some of their fog. "Really?"

Cyrus nodded. "I think so. I mean, I'm not an expert, but it makes sense to me."

Yalmireth nodded. "Thank you. When can we have our next… practice session?"

The human stood and stretched, pushing his chair under the table. "I dunno. I have a lesson with Yankovich tomorrow, so Wednesday might be better."

Leaning back in his chair, Yalmireth raised a curious eyebrow. "Lesson? Why do you have a lesson with Yankovich?"

Letting out an explosive sigh, Cyrus plopped down on his bed. It was far more comfortable than a chair. "My… my death magic went out of control today. As in, completely. I raised three hundred zombies by accident, nearly got my class eaten, and nearly got eaten _myself_. It was a shitty day." He ran a hand through his hair and massaged the back of his tense neck.

"Would you like a massage? I'm rather good at them."

Cyrus tensed. Licking his lips nervously, he avoided eye contact. "Ah, no. Thanks. I think I'll just take a shower."

Looking up, he saw Yalmireth frown. "You have been showering often, these past couple days."

The human froze. "Really. And how would you know that?"

Yalmireth's lips twitched up at the corners. "I can smell it. After both lunch and dinner on Sunday you came back to our study session smelling clean. Is there a reason you feel the need to wash so much when you are not dirty?" The demon tilted his head to the side curiously, but Cyrus didn't like the way those steel-colored eyes seemed to _see_.

"No. No reason at all."

Yalmireth's expression was placid. "Of course. And why do you flinch from touch? You tensed when I mentioned a massage. Is it unusual for a person to offer such services in order to relax a friend? Why were you so displeased with the idea? You're one of my… my few friends, and I just want to help you."

Cyrus stared at a random book on his bookshelf. "No reason. I just don't like massages."

Yalmireth sighed. "But even if you do not want one, you _need_ one."

Cyrus scowled. "I'm not having this conversation. I'm taking a shower." Sliding off the bed, he walked into his bathroom and shut the door without looking back. He hoped Yalmireth was gone when he finished.

But it was not meant to be. Even after wasting thirty minutes of water, the demon was sitting exactly where Cyrus had left him. Scowling darkly, he kicked his trunk open, furious with himself for not getting clothes before going for his shower. Clamoring awkwardly down the stairs with one hand holding his towel shut, he ignored the eyes he could feel smoldering across him. Taking a slow, deep breath, he stepped off the ladder and made for his dresser. Ripping the drawer open, he pulled out random things without really worrying about matching. Frowning at the lack of shirts, he made a mental note to go to Gemini Square to pick some more up the coming weekend.

Lost in his thoughts, he was understandably surprised by the hands that landed on his shoulders and began to knead gently. He tried to step away and walked right into his dresser, his towel slipping dangerously low on his hips. He tensed as the body behind him followed his movement, and Cyrus found himself pinned between wood and a male body. Closing his eyes, he tried to repress the nausea that built at the touch. "Please. Stop," Cyrus asked, his magic swirling under his skin in preparation. He didn't want to attack his friend, but if Yalmireth didn't let go he couldn't be held accountable for his actions.

"Why, Cyrus? Tell me what happened, and I'll stop."

Cyrus ripped away and snarled. "Why the fuck can't you just leave it alone?!"

It was the look of sadness in Yalmireth's eyes that stopped him from magically attacking. "Why don't you trust me?"

Cyrus stopped dead. "This isn't a matter of trust, Yalmireth, nothing hap-"

"Stop lying!"

The human took a step back, completely flabbergasted by Yalmireth's lack of tact. Why did the demon have to pick _now_ to be assertive?!

"Please." Gray eyes begged. "Just let me help you."

Cyrus scowled. "Get out of my trunk so I can get dressed." He didn't feel comfortable with the demon watching water drip down his chest.

The demon frowned, disappointment shining so brightly in his eyes that Cyrus almost winced. "Very well," the demon said softly, all his former confidence disappearing as he turned around and left.

For some reason he couldn't identify, Cyrus felt guilty. And he hated that he did.

_oOo_

He got an owl from Severus of all people later that night. The owl that had delivered the mail turned his nose up at Cyrus's offer of treats before flying off with a flick of his tail feathers. The human felt as if he had been insulted, but couldn't bring himself to care as he quickly opened the letter. It wasn't often that he got mail form his guardians. Occasionally they would send letters to ask what he was doing, and Remus would complain about him not visiting often enough, but Cyrus never really got into trading letters with them. It always felt… a little forced.

_Dear Cyrus,_

_I am sending this letter and vial in the hope that you had something to do with recent events, and will take some pleasure from the outcome. As Yankovich asked me to provide memories if anything 'unfortunate' happened to the Dark Lord, I decided to send you a copy as well. It would be wise, if you have not already done so, to get a pensieve. If you ever need to recount events or information to friends or others, it is a very useful tool to have._

_Remus requests that I ask you to come visit soon. He complains about missing your company after the time we shared during Christmas. I myself admit that I have expected to trip over one of your spell books lately, only to find none in the house._

_Regards,_

_Severus_

Cyrus couldn't help but crack a smile at the spell book comment. During the Holidays, he had been doing quite a bit of reading, and often he forgot a book on the floor or the coffee table for days before he picked it back up. Or Remus picked it up for him.

Checking the time, he decided he could probably kill two birds with one stone and get a pensieve and magi-com at the same time. After getting dressed, he got out of his trunk and closed it behind him. Making sure he had his money, he apparated with a quiet _crack_.

_oOo_

Cyrus put his pensieve down on his tiny table and popped the cork of the vial that came with Severus's owl. Tipping it over, he watched the silver white liquid stretch until gravity finally pulled it down into the metal bowl. The suspense was killing him. His magi-com sat unopened in its box on his bed, as he couldn't wait to see the look on Voldemort's face when the zombies tried to eat him.

Cyrus knew what that felt like. The eating part, that is.

Sinking his head into the misty liquid, the real world vanished in a whirlpool of color.

_Looking around curiously, Cyrus saw many cloaked bodies and masked faces. A Death Eater meeting. He snorted at the dungeon décor. Still no imagination. Voldemort hadn't changed a bit._

"_Tonight, my faithful, will be the beginning of the end of this age of Light. With our army, we will overtake our foes and bring about a new age of magic!" Voldemort held his arms away from himself, as if to embrace his avid listeners. "We will no longer hide in the shadows. We will no longer let the Ministry ignore us. We will take what rightfully belongs to us!"_

_Cyrus had to hand it to the lunatic. He made great speeches. For a millisecond, Cyrus had almost believed the world to be at the tip of his fingers. And then the reality beyond the sound of that sibilant voice had come crashing in. When Voldemort wasn't torturing his followers, and if he didn't have a snake for a face, he could be charismatic._

"_With our army of inferi, we will storm the Ministry!"_

_Cyrus's eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened. The Ministry? Voldemort was going after the _Ministry?_ Why hadn't Remus or Severus said anything?_

_There was a chorus of shouts, and then the world swirled for a moment as Memory Severus disapparated. When the swirling colors came to a stop, they were in the main hall of the Ministry and moving in. People screamed as pandemonium broke lose, running left and right to escape the Death Eaters. Cyrus watched Severus for a moment as the man cast spells, most of them mysteriously hitting the stone and dissipating as they missed, or more harmless spells hitting some of the headless chickens._

_Cyrus's respect for his own race dropped a few notches as he watched wizards and witches run instead of drawing their wands to defend themselves. It was ridiculous how fear had molded their responses to 'flight' instead of 'fight'. Some of them might actually have survived if they'd had the mind to cast a decent protego. Where the hell were the Aurors? Was the Ministry really this incompetent?_

_Shaking his head, he watched as the bodies of maimed or unconscious ministry workers were piled around the fountain with the wizard, centaur, goblin, and house elf statues. His fingers itched for his wand as Voldemort stood their with a satisfied smirk as his zombies gnawed on those still running away. They would die in less than a day if they didn't get proper treatment._

_Finally, just as Cyrus was beginning to lose patience with the pointless slaughter, a team of Death Eaters came down the hall with a man squirming in their grasp. Squinting to see better, he gasped at the sight of Cornelius Fudge, the short and pudgy man's face a splotchy red and white from fear._

"_Please don't kill me oh Merlin please don't kill me I can co-operate, I can do anything you want, just don-" He was smacked over the back of the head._

"_Shut up, Minister. Our master doesn't want to hear your blathering any longer."_

_Voldemort chuckled. "Very good, Rabastan. Did you have any trouble with his guards?"_

"_No, my Lord. We caught him just as he was about to escape through his personal floo. His guards were easy enough to dispatch."_

_The Dark Lord nodded, walking forward with a dramatic flare of his robes. Cyrus would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so worried about missing some tiny detail. "Very good. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you for the first time, Minister, but that would be a lie." The look of disgust on Voldemort's face mirrored Cyrus's own feelings about the man. "I thank you for convincing the world that I had not returned. It made my maneuvering much easier."_

_Fudge turned puce. "W-what are you g-going to d-d-d-o with m-me?"_

_A slow, amused smirk stretched serpentine lips. "Why, you have outgrown your usefulness. With the Ministry taken, I have no need for you. Rabastan."_

_The Death Eater inclined his head and cast the killing curse without hesitation. Cyrus watched the body hit the ground with apathy. Fudge had been a blubbering fool of a man, and a horrible Minister. Cyrus hoped, if this attack played out with Voldemort failing, that they assigned a more competent Minister the next time. One who would prepare Britain for war. Because that was what this was. Voldemort was making the first obvious and unmistakable move against the Light._

_Cyrus rolled his eyes at the thought, watching Voldemort order his minions around like cattle. 'Light'. 'Dark'. Now that he had a proper understanding of Light and Dark magics, courtesy of the stellar education of Shikaan, he had to laugh at the way wizarding society had separated the two. Half of the spells classified Dark were in fact Light spells. The definition of a Dark Art was a magical power that tempted and threatened to overrun the mind and control the user. With a proper education of Dark magic and how to avoid addiction, as they were taught in Dark Arts and Their Defense, there was no danger in casting those kinds of spells._

_Watching the Death Eaters mill about, Cyrus wondered when the glorified Order of the Flaming Rubber Chicken was supposed to arrive._

_As if cued by his thoughts, the Order came bursting through the fires and into a chaotic hell. Cyrus caught the expressions on their faces at the sight of the Death Eaters and all the zombies. He watched as Dumbledore, at the head of the group, cast a flaming whip with his wand in his left hand. It tore through the inferi like butter, slicing the rotting flesh into disgusting and smelly goop._

_Just as the Death Eaters were about to overtake the Order, it happened. All of a sudden, all the zombies in the room stopped what they were doing and turned, as one, to look in Voldemort's direction. A slow smirk spread across Cyrus's face as he watched Voldemort's face show confusion, surprise, and then such a righteous fury the student wanted to laugh. Really. Voldemort tried to backstab Yankovich and doesn't expect retribution?_

_Cyrus watched in amusement as the zombies tripped over themselves to get to Voldemort, chewing on the odd Death Eater along the way. The Dark Lord let out a furious scream of anger, tossing the matrix stone onto the floor before disapparating with a crack. The Death Eaters looked around themselves in confusion for a moment before following. Before the memory faded into nothing, Cyrus caught sight of Dumbledore destroying most of the zombies. Absently, he wondered if Voldemort had brought all one thousand with him because he doubted all of them would have fit in the hall. He smirked at the thought of Snakeface being attacked by zombies upon his arrival back in his dungeons._

_The scene faded with a swirl of color and a physical wrenching sensation as Cyrus was thrown back into the real world._

The human leaned back on the heels of his feet for a moment before laughing softly to himself. The look on Voldemort's face when his zombie army had lost control was priceless. If he knew how to do it, he would have the image framed and put on his wall.

'Don't fuck with a necromancer,' Cyrus thought to himself in amusement as he jumped back into the memory for a second viewing.

_-Toki Mirage-_

Yo! This took longer than I planned, but it's out now. I kept getting distracted or losing inspiration. It was quite annoying. I also had to go and reread the story and take notes, because I keep forgetting stuff. :P I've now got notes up to chapter 12. Woot!

And yes, I made the Ministry that incompetent on purpose and for a reason.

_**Forum:**_

If you'd like to ask questions about BS, or my other story LDBP, or find out more than what's on the page, please come visit my forum.

_Edit Aug 16/09 – Amelia's body mentioned. Hiring a professional necromancer mentioned._


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Finding Dalesh

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Sixteen:

_oOo_

Cyrus slammed the book shut in disgust and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, ignoring the way the replacement librarian glared at him. There was nothing. Well, nothing useful in the library. Which made sense, now that he thought about it. The headmistress was a vampire. Why would she keep a book on 'how to kill a vampire'?

Burying his head in his arms, he cursed softly under his breath. After that first bite from Asteras, he'd researched vampires. He hadn't found much then either. It was almost like there was a ban on the library concerning that information. Or the authors who wrote about it got killed off, which could be quite the deterrent. All he'd found out at the time was about a vampire's bite when they fed off you, and other useless information that was decades, or _centuries_ out of date – most of it being history. There was very little about their culture or customs.

Someone needed to make a 'need to know' guide to vampires. This was frustrating.

But if books couldn't help him… and Tara was off looking for Dalesh's corpse… Maybe it was time he fully exploited his other source.

He needed to talk to Severus.

Gathering up his books, he was about to take them to the librarian for reshelving when Yalmireth walked around the corner of a nearby bookshelf.

"Cyrus," he greeted with a small smile. "I've been looking for you. I had hoped we could practice wandless magic again this evening."

The human bit his lip and put the last book on the top of the stack in his arms. "Today isn't really a good day, sorry Yalmireth. I'm… I have to leave Shikaan for a couple hours. Maybe longer. And I have a lesson with Yankovich later tonight." When the demon looked crestfallen, he internally winced with guilt. "But hey, I'll make it up to you okay? There's just some… stuff going on right now that has me a little worked up, and the homework load hasn't exactly been light lately with that project Rivehn assigned."

Yalmireth lowered his head slightly, his bangs falling into his eyes and hiding them from Cyrus's sight. "I see. Are you still going to study with us tonight?"

The human shifted the weight in his arms. "Maybe. If I have time." He started walking off. "I'll see you later, Yalmireth." The demon said nothing, but Cyrus caught sight of him staring out of the corner of his eye. He really did feel bad for just ditching Yalmireth like that, but he _did_ have killer vampires on his ass. He needed to protect himself, and hopefully Severus could help.

Once he'd left the books with the librarian, who glared at him scornfully, he disapparated straight to Spinner's End.

Both eyebrows rose at the sight that met him when he apparated with a soft _crack_. "Merlin! What happened to you, Remus?"

The werewolf smiled half-heartedly from where he lay on the couch, half his body covered in red-soaked bandages. "Hey Cyrus, how's school?"

He stared. "School's… stressful. What the fuck happened?"

Severus came out of his study at that moment, a box of potion vials in hand. The scowl on his face could have scared a giant shitless. "Werewolves within the clan have been challenging him for the right to be Alpha. I have told him time and time again that he needs to rip someone apart to set an example for the others, but he foolishly continues to rule with a peaceful hand."

Remus let out a tired sigh. "I hate the pack mentality where violence is the only solution," he explained, a dull tone to his voice as if he had been repeating himself too many times.

Cyrus stared. "You're kidding, right? Hell, I was _there_, Remus, when they tried to lynch you."

"And yet this has only made his argument stronger. That he must 'civilize' them. You can remain a civil man and rule with an iron grip, Remus. You must find the line where peacekeeping is no longer suitable to control the situation. Violence is a necessity in most cultures, Remus."

"That's not true! It's mentality like that, that creates wars and never ending conflicts. If I could just get them to see _reason_-"

"They are a pack of animals, Remus!" the vampire snapped. "And while they walk on two feet for most of the month, not all are so willing to return to pretty human sentimentality even though their fur has disappeared! If you continue to believe in the good of everyone under you, you are going to get yourself killed. And _I_ won't have my mate dying because of his foolish ideals of peace!"

Cyrus grimaced. Wow. He'd just walked in on a lover's spat he definitely didn't want to get involved in.

Remus ignored him. "So, Cyrus, what brings you here?"

Severus glared at him and shoved a vial in his face. The werewolf drank it without a word, as well as several others.

The human twitched. "Well… I'm in a bit of a bind, and I need some information on vampire culture from Severus." He proceeded to explain the 'situation' he'd found himself in.

"_Are you an imbecile?! _Getting involved with ACIF? The Akkad Criminal Investigation Force?!"

The human looked away nervously from the positively furious expression on Severus's face.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed on a weekly basis _on_ _purpose?_ If death is what you want, I'll gladly kill you myself!"

Cyrus's sputtered for a moment. "Hey! I don't do this on purpose! And as this is _my_ life on the line here, how about a bit less anger and a bit more constructive problem solving? I need to know how to kill a vampire if it comes down to that, and none of the books at Shikaan have enlightened me an iota." He crossed his arms defensively across his chest.

Remus had covered his face with a hand and Severus was looking at him like he was a bug on the wall, and he just wanted to squish it. "Trouble follows you like a magnet. Next time you're neck deep in vampire territory, _don't _try to kill someone."

"Yeah. I got that. Any other brilliant suggestions for keeping myself alive?"

The vampire got up and went towards the liquor cabinet. "Killing a vampire is notoriously difficult. The only way to be sure they are dead is to remove their head. Organs can be regrown, flesh wounds healed. Vampires can take a substantial amount of damage, and unless you rip their body to shreds, they will likely regenerate."

"Can a killing curse take one out?"

The vampire nodded. "The reason why the killing curse is an unforgivable is because it kills _anything_. Of course, the amount of power you put into it is also a factor. If you cast a curse that will kill a human at a giant, you may give it a bloody nose. It is similar for vampires. Without enough power, it will not kill them."

Cyrus swore softly to himself. He had the power to cast multiple killing curses, but if he wasn't careful the Dark magic would begin to insinuate itself into his mind. They were taught how to resist the Dark in Dark Arts and Their Defense, but not everyone succeeded in fighting the temptation to let down that mental barrier and let their essence revel in the power of it. Cyrus was pretty sure Severus was addicted – he _was_ a Death Eater after all – but like most Shikaan graduates or dropouts, he had learned how to quell it and aim it in directions that weren't damaging to other people or himself.

"And what do I do if they come after my head? Can I escape and hide myself?"

Severus got a thoughtful expression. "I'm unsure. The Akkad clan can be quite… persistent. And the clan has vampires of many skills. They would probably be able to track you unless you sealed your magic and became a muggle."

Cyrus stared. "Seriously? Shit! So they would be able to find out that I'm Harry Potter?"

The vampire nodded. "If they were forced to look for you, then yes, they could. Your best option is to prove that Dalesh killed this Amelia woman."

Cyrus bit his lip. "You're sure that there's no way I could hide from them?"

Severus shook his head. "I used to be a vampire of the Akkad clan before I… creatively got myself banished. Now I'm an outsider, affiliated with no one. To say the least, I have an idea of how they operate."

The human blinked, surprised. "Really? You were an Akkad?"

"Yes."

Cyrus nodded slowly. Well, at least this visit hadn't been a complete failure. He knew how to kill a vampire now, though he wasn't sure if he'd survive long enough to cast Avada Kedavra.

Shit.

_oOo_

"Come in."

Cyrus slipped inside the office, closing the door quietly behind him. Yankovich sat behind his desk, writing something in a notebook with a look of deep concentration on his face, a small pink tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. Cyrus stifled a smile at the sight. It totally didn't suit the demon's normally demonic visage of… demonicness.

Yankovich snapped the book shut and stood from behind his desk. "You ready to go raise some corpses?" he asked cheerfully.

Cyrus blinked. "Suuure."

The demon put a hand on his shoulder and the world disappeared in shadows. When light finally reached Cyrus's eyes again, and the falling sensation had faded, the human looked around at the graveyard Yankovich had shadow walked them to.

"Where are we?" Cyrus asked curiously as he ran a hand along a rather nice looking gravestone. Usually Yankovich had them raising dead in neglected and old graveyards – less chance of running into mourners that way. So why were they in a nice, cheery, snow-spotted graveyard that didn't fit Yankovich's M.O?

"Somewhere in Kansas, I think," the demon said, brushing the snow off a headstone with a wave of his hand before plopping himself down on it. "Today we're going to work on two methods of raising the dead, and figuring out the advantages for both. Now, from how you've explained the way your death magic works to me so far, the first method is keeping your natural magic in your channels and the other is flooding your channels with death magic, right? From my understanding, you didn't have such huge control problems until you required more volume of death magic and had to switch cores."

Cyrus nodded. "When I raised my first zombie, I kept the thread connecting it to me easily enough, but as soon as I… er, flooded my channels the other day, the magic just poured out of me and raised the entire graveyard."

Yankovich nodded. "I'm going to have to teach you how to remain in control of the larger amounts of magic, and to not automatically use large amounts of death magic when your raising doesn't work the first time. I want to see if you can manage to raise one zombie and regenerate it like you did with that soldier zombie that attacked… Zirala was it? The hard part will be keeping a tight hold on the flow. In order to do that, use the non-flooding method the first time so you can _feel_ how much death magic you need. Pick a corpse and get crackin'."

Cyrus blinked. "You're in a very good mood today."

The demon grinned. "Rivehn and I were… working on an interesting project last night. So yes, I'm in a good mood. Now stop wasting time, Obsidian. Chop chop."

Unable to ignore the infectious grin, Cyrus smiled and bit his lip to try to keep some of the amusement off his face. Turning around in search of a dead body to raise, he wondered whether he should start older or younger. Shrugging, he closed his eyes and cast out a mental net of death magic. Feeling the bodies in the ground, he blinked when one grave had two corpses in it. Getting curious, he focused his attention in on them. His eyebrows rose in surprise when one of the dead was in a casket and the other was _underneath_ the casket. Had someone been murdered and buried there? It really was the perfect place to get rid of a body if you were a muggle.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he focused on the task before him. Finding a body around fifty years old, he wrestled out as much death magic as he could past the natural magic in his channels and sent it out into the ground like a rope. It wrapped around the corpse and brought it to the surface.

"Not bad," Yankovich said from where he still sat on his headstone. "Now remember the quantity you used, put it back in the ground, flood your channels, and try again. Don't forget to keep the thread attached to your core, like you learned in class. You have to constantly keep your attention on the connection in case the zombie fights you or your lack of concentration snaps it."

Cyrus nodded and did as he was asked, mentally commanding the zombie back into the ground. It fell asleep without any problems, sinking into the soil. With a gentle snap, the connection broke. Closing his eyes and taking a breath, he pulled his natural magic back into his channels and let his death magic fill him to the brim. Holding on tightly, he didn't let a single drop of it leak past his skin.

"Good. Now, remember the quantity and raise that zombie again."

Nodding absently, Cyrus cupped his hands together and slowly let death magic pool between them. When he had measured it as closely as he could, he formed the ball of magic into a rope and sent it down into the ground. The death magic behaved a little differently this time, writhing in his grip and trying to slip out of his control. It also tried to draw more magic out of him, but he kept a tight leash on it, mind focused on raising the zombie again.

The rope attached to the corpse, and the magic just poured into the body. It was only with a quick mental 'grab' that he caught the rope before it all got sucked into the zombie. Taking the end of the rope and attaching it to his core, he commanded the zombie to rise from the ground.

The first thing he noticed was how much… healthier the zombie looked. He'd used almost the same amount of magic, but it seemed to work _better_ than before. The muggle woman stared at him eerily, looking for all the world as if she had just walked off the street, and not out of her own grave.

Creepy.

"First thing you're doing wrong," the demon began, and Cyrus cringed. "When you pull death magic from your core, _never_ let it separate. I thought I explained this to you in class? If you don't keep your connection between your death magic and the zombie during the entire process, the chances it can escape increase. Why are you having trouble with this now?"

The human licked his lips nervously and thought about it for a moment, staring at a random headstone. "I dunno. It just seems more… slippery."

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to stay conscious of your control at all times if you don't want to get eaten alive by your own zombie as soon as someone throws a spell at you."

"But how do I _do_ that?"

"Practice. It's called multi-tasking, Obsidian. That's why battle necromancers are so rare. Few have the instinctive concentration necessary to control dead and cast spells at the same time."

While fascinated with that little tidbit, it didn't exactly help. Cyrus wanted to bash his head against the wall. Practice. The one word no student wanted to hear when they were trying to learn something.

"How much death magic would it take for a muggle zombie to become more… aware?" They hadn't discussed the cognizance of different zombies in class, much. At this stage in their education they were simply learning to raise the zombies. Getting into their heads didn't come up until second year, unfortunately.

"No amount of death magic can make a muggle zombie completely cognizant. It's impossible. Their souls have moved on, and they have no magic themselves to animate their bodies and brains to the point where they can act like real people."

Cyrus frowned. "You mentioned that in class, once. What are the other differences between raising muggles and magical people?

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "You don't need to know any more about that for a while yet, Cyrus. Why the sudden curiosity?"

Cyrus thought of Dalesh. "No reason. You couldn't give me a hint, could you?"

Sapphire eyes narrowed. "All you need to know is _not_ to try to raise one until I tell you to. Got it? A lot of shit can go wrong even when you've had proper training for it."

The human deflated. "Oh. Alright." Damnit. Now how was he supposed to raise Dalesh and not fuck up? 'Bring lots of salt, I guess. And a torch,' he thought miserably to himself. Learning how to cast fiendfyre, the most powerful fire spell he knew of, was now on the top of his list of shit to do. He wasn't getting mauled by a zombie again if he could help it.

"Good," Yankovich said, a suspicious glint in his eyes. Cyrus did his best to look innocent without being _too_ innocent. After a rather awkward and long staring contest, the demon poked the zombie one more time. "Put her back in the dirt. I want you to raise two zombies at once now."

Letting out a breath, Cyrus nodded and put the inferius back in the ground. "Does it matter how old they both are when I raise them?" he asked.

Yankovich raised an eyebrow. "If what you meant was does it matter to _me_, then no. But you might want to keep it under a hundred to make it easier for yourself."

The human nodded and closed his eyes to look for another dead body nearby that was close in age to the one he'd already raised. He found it a few meters away and pooled magic into his hands again, this time measuring out twice as much as last time. He smiled slightly. The hand-measuring thing was really helping so far. Forming the magic into two ropes, he attached the ends to his core like Yankovich had told them and sent the other ends into the ground. He was completely unprepared for the way his concentration broke under the strain of keeping two dead bodies in control. It was like trying to juggle with three balls when you only knew how to toss two. The threads just snapped like hairs.

Swearing, he pulled his death magic back into his core in five seconds while pulling a shrunken bag of salt off his belt at the same time. Letting his natural magic fill his core again, he tried to keep calm as the two flesh-eating zombies that had pulled themselves out of the ground started walking towards him. His panic only faded when he'd wandless enlarged the salt, split the bag, and maneuvered the grains of salt into a circle around him.

A sigh whistled from between his clenched teeth as the zombies walked into the edge of the circle and tried to claw their way around the invisible 'shield'. Yankovich floated in the air a distance away, watching with an amused expression. Cyrus glared and crossed his arms, watching the two zombies paw at his circle.

That was it. He was officially drawing a protective salt circle every time he raised the dead from then on. Because this was just _not_ cool.

"Do you remember how to reattach to them, Obsidian? Or do you need me to walk you through it again," Yankovich's voice jeered from above.

Cyrus was sincerely tempted to flip him the bird, but settled for just getting the zombies back in the ground. Eyes warily watching the zombies, he switched cores again. Stretching ropes out to the bodies, he reattached to them one by one and kept an iron grip once the threads were secure.

"Good," Yankovich said, floating back down to stand on a nearby headstone. "At least this time you only raised two flesh-eaters. That's an improvement."

Cyrus gave him a look.

The demon grinned. "Now now, no reason to get feisty. You know I'm right. You're like a walking disaster-waiting-to-happen."

The human scowled. "How am I supposed to concentrate on both at the same time? I don't get it," he complained moodily.

Yankovich crossed his arms. "Practice."

"But that doesn't _tell_ me anything!"

"Don't get snippy with me, human. I've given you all the tools you need. It wasn't like you were skipping classes before we got your death magic working." The demon picked at a fingernail. "If you need to practice by raising animals, then that's what you need to do. There's not shame in that." When Cyrus opened his mouth to shout, completely insulted, Yankovich continued, "I started on animals."

The human's mouth clicked shut for a moment before opening again. "Really? But… Zirala said only really bad necromancers had to start on animals."

Yankovich snorted. "Bullshit. Raising animals is for people with little death magic or little control. I had both when I first started. And now look where I am." His lips spread in a feral grin. "I'm one of the best necromancers in the guild not because of raw power, but because of my fine control. You would do well to learn some. Practice on something big, first. Animals need far less death magic to raise, so pumping them full enough to explode will only cause you problems. When you're good enough to raise a fly, we'll have our next lesson."

Cyrus backpedalled. "Wait, what? Next lesson? Are you saying that you won't have any more lessons with me until I learn how to raise a _fly?_"

The demon raised an eyebrow. "You're a waste of my time until then. Practice makes perfect. Whining to me and fucking up more zombie raisings will get you nowhere. You need to learn control, and then how to split your concentration of that control. So, animals. I'll help you with multiple, simultaneous raisings of animals once you can make a fly dance a jig in mid air for a whole minute. See you in class!"

And without another word, the demon fell into the shadow of the headstone behind him, leaving Cyrus to stare after him.

Fucking flies.

_oOo_

Cyrus spent most of Wednesday locked in his room doing homework. His lesson with Yankovich had shown some improvement, but apparently not enough for the Necromancy Professor. He had to practice raising _flies_ before he got another lesson. Letting out a disgusted grunt, he returned his attention to his Runes Transfiguration homework.

"Cyrus!"

The human nearly overturned his small table as he got to his feet with both wands in hand, surprised. When he saw it was only Tara, he let out a breath. "Jeez, Tara. You trying to give me a heart attack or something?" Sheathing his wands, he righted his chair and let himself collapse into it with a raised eyebrow at the excited look on the vampire's face.

Tara grinned. "If you would get a magi-com, I wouldn't have to drop in on you like this."

Rolling his eyes, Cyrus pulled the new magi-com out of his pocket and flashed it at the vampire. "Ha. You can't use that excuse on me anymore."

She snatched the magical phone out of his hand before he could react, flipping it open and punching away at buttons. "I hope you know how to find your address book because I'm programming my number into it," she said distractedly before pulling out her own magi-com and punching something into it. Closing his with a snap, she gently tossed it back to him.

He caught it with seeker reflexes and flipped it open to see what she'd done. Suddenly, the song 'Over the Rainbow' came from the tiny contraption as it buzzed in his hand. Confused, he flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Yo," Tara's voice came in stereo half coming from the speaker by his ear and the person standing not three feet away from him.

The human raised an eyebrow. "Really, Tara," he muttered under his breath as he hung up and tried to figure out how to change his ringer. No way in hell was his pocket going to start singing about rainbows in the middle of class. Unable to find what he was looking for, he settled for turning the volume down until it was set on vibrate.

Pulling his mind out of the black hole that was figuring-out-the-magi-com, he turned his attention back to Tara. "So, what's up?" he asked, shoving the device back in his pocket.

"I found Dalesh's body. Well, I know where they stashed it. It's been sealed in the family's tomb. Apparently his mom is a huge stickler for tradition."

Cyrus made a thoughtful noise. "Alright, so, how do we get at it?"

"Well, we're going to have to slip past a few patrols of guards, steal the body, and then escape, but it should be a smooth sailing once we get out of the building. Then you can do your thing."

The human internally winced. He had no idea if this was going to work, but he didn't think telling Tara so late in the game was a good idea. He remembered telling her once before, but didn't want to bring it up if she'd forgotten. If he took the proper precautions he should be fine. He'd spent all last night learning the fiendfyre spell, after all. And he had around ten large bags of salt on his person now at all times.

"So, when are we leaving?" Cyrus asked curiously, brushing negative thoughts from his mind.

Tara reached into her bag and enlarged the piece of parchment she'd pulled out of it. "Well, I stole some old schematics of the mansion."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "How'd you manage that?"

She grinned. "Blood magic creates some interesting back doors into wards if they haven't been set up to protect against it."

The human frowned. "Blood magic? What the heck is that?"

"It's one of my majors. To keep it simple, it's manipulating the magic found in blood for different effects. Depending on the species of blood you use, and whether or not it's magical, you can achieve some pretty cool things. You can also use it in conjunction with actual spellwork. One of the masters I'm studying with has a bunch of old manuscripts on it, and he's teaching me what he knows."

Cyrus blinked. "Huh. Will this help us with getting into the mansion?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know. Most of the major families took blood magic into consideration when they had their wards built, so I really don't know if it'll work. Do you have any brilliant ideas for getting past them that you haven't shared yet? Didn't think so."

"Well, actually, I might," Cyrus interrupted her tirade.

Tara stared. "Wait, what?"

"I have… well, do you promise not to tell anyone?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I won't tell anyone if you don't let out a peep about the blood magic thing. No one's really supposed to know, but I figured I could threaten you into silence if we survived this."

Cyrus grinned half-heartedly. "Deal. We both keep our mouths shut. I have rune sight, and I've already broken into one warded location. I've gotten pretty good at reading them, but I'm not sure if vampires have more sophisticated wards than a magical human would."

Tara made a thoughtful noise. "They probably do. Vampires accumulate a lot of wealth if the leader of each family has decent business sense. That allows them to buy wards from a proper Rune Master. If we put our knowledge together, though, we might be able to slip under them. I've heard about masters getting through wards completely undetected before. If we're lucky, we might be able to do the same."

"I hope so. So, what's the plan?"

She conjured another table, as his own was covered in homework, and spread the blueprints flat across it. "The mansion is completely surrounded by a ten meter wall made of stone reinforced with spells. From the information I've been able to gather, they have two guard details each night, and they change the times every day, so we're going to have to sit around and wait for the right moment. Or hope we can neutralize the guards before they can send out the alarm. The latter option is less likely to succeed. It's better if they don't suspect that anyone's there."

Cyrus nodded. "So, undetected." He blinked and reached into his pocket for Rivehn's ruby. "This could help. Rivehn gave it to me a couple days ago. It keeps me completely undetected."

Tara's eyebrows rose, and she plucked it out of his hands. "Really?" She stared at the ruby as if it would give away its secrets. "Doesn't look like much. So he's anchored some spells to it?"

Cyrus nodded. "It's pretty complicated, too. There are a number of spells woven together and then attached to the stone." He took it back when she held it out to him. "Hopefully it'll work. You probably have more experience going undetected, right?"

She made a noncommittal sound. "Well, not really. I mean, I've had Shikaan training in subterfuge and stuff, but it's never been something I've trained seriously in because of a career choice. I'm better than a first year, but most of the guards are probably trained in detecting those kinds of spells."

"And you couldn't shadow walk or something?"

"Vampires can feel each other shadow walking. While it's subtle when dealing with magical humans or werewolves, it's like lighting a torch to our own species."

Cyrus let out a small sigh, trying not to get discouraged and failing. This was looking to be even more impossible than before. "So what, should we just give up now? Wait for those Akkad guys to come back and cut off my head? And _your_ head? There's got to be a way to get inside undetected. Do they have anti-apparition wards? What about portkeys? Or what if I shrank you and put you in my pocket while I slip by using Rivehn's ruby?"

Tara blinked. "You… that might actually work. I trust Rivehn's spellwork more than my own skills."

Cyrus grinned. "Great. So, I'll have to memorize the route or something, and then enlarge you once we've gotten to Dalesh's grave."

"Tomb," Tara absentminded corrected as she stared into space, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Yes… that might just work." Turning her attention back to the map, she conjured a marker and started drawing the route onto the map. "This is the quickest way in and out of the mansion. These are two alternate routes in case our entry gets blocked or we have to split up because of detection. Think you can remember them?"

Cyrus adopted a pathetic expression. "I dunno. I hope so."

The vampire frowned. "What do you mean 'you hope so?' Haven't you learned Occlumency? You should be able to memorize this stuff."

He twitched. "Well, not exactly." Letting out a sigh, he ran his finger over the markings Tara had drawn. "If you give me around half an hour, I could probably memorize it enough to get through the building."

Tara let out a frustrated breath. "That's ridiculous. You should just let _me_ use the ruby and I'll shrink _you_."

Cyrus frowned. "But you won't be able to activate it. It's designed for someone with rune sight."

"Couldn't you activate it _before_ I shrink you?" Tara asked flatly, an eyebrow raised.

The human blinked. "Er… I suppose that could work."

"Good." She tapped her finger on the map. "You memorize this the best you can while I go get ready, just in case we get separated. Another thing, have you considered where you'd like to take the body to raise it?"

Cyrus bit his lip thoughtfully. "Well, I don't want to raise it near other people, in case it goes flesh-eating. I think I'll do it in a cemetery we've used in class before that's been abandoned. There shouldn't be anyone nearby." That place in Switzerland should be perfect.

"Alright." She nodded decisively. "I'll be back in an hour. Make sure you feed yourself, okay? And pack something extra. There's nothing worse than getting stuck on a stakeout without any food or water." She disapparated with a _crack_.

Cyrus glared down at the map that taunted him. Time to get cracking.

_oOo_

An hour later found Cyrus and Tara crouching behind some bushes nearby, Cyrus using his ruby to remain undetected from the guards nearby, and Tara using her own skills. As soon as they'd arrived, they'd cast a silencing spell around them so they could communicate and started trying to figure out the wards.

"I've never seen anything this complicated. I'm no ward expert, but… so many things are accounted for. There's a subsequence that triggers a chain reaction if the spells are changed in any way. I can't add on or destroy any part of the spell without the wards setting off the alarms. This stops me from adding us to the list of those have entry. It also means if I separate any part of the ward, the alarms will go off. And if I tamper with the anchors, we have the same problem. I can't think of any way to get inside."

Tara made a thoughtful sound. "This is getting annoying. Have you checked for blood magic resistance? The rune for blood magic should be this," she said, drawing a symbol on the dirt at their feet.

Memorizing the new rune, Cyrus turned his attention back to the ward in search of it. He didn't find it anywhere. "I can't see it. Does that mean they haven't adapted the wards to protect from blood magic?"

Tara grinned. "Probably. It's a very rare skill. The Aengar protect their techniques mercilessly. My own master only managed to get his hands on some of their scrolls by accident. And it's not like the Aengar are known for breaking and entering. They're rather reclusive."

Cyrus blinked. "Who are the Aengar?"

"Interesting story for another time. If you give me a couple of minutes, I should be able to open a hole in the ward. Right after we get through, you have to give me the ruby and I'll shrink you. I can run faster than you can, too."

Cyrus nodded. "Alright. Do you need me to do anything?"

"No. Just keep an eye out in case someone discovers us." Tongue peeking out from between her lips in concentration, Tara slipped forward through the darkness. Frowning, Cyrus increased the light sensitivity of the spell he'd cast on his eyes in order to see in the dark. The world brightened to lighter shades of gray, and Cyrus watched in fascination as Tara cut her finger with something and started marking the stone path that surrounded the house, right on the edge of the wards, with her blood.

After around ten minutes, Cyrus watched in amazement as she literally pried a hole open in the wards. She motioned him forwards with a jerk of her head, so he moved as stealthily as he could and slipped past her. She followed quickly after, closing the ward. The blood on the ground vanished itself without a trace.

Not daring to make a sound, Cyrus's mouthed the word 'cool' and grinned.

Tara tapped him impatiently on the shoulder and held out a hand. Blinking, Cyrus cast some basic stealth spells on himself before he handed over the ruby. She slipped it into her pocket and shrank him before he could so much as twitch. Cyrus had to bite his lip to hold back his surprised squeak when her hand gently wrapped around him and slipped him into her pocket.

This was, hands down, one of the most bizarre experiences in his life.

Gripping the fabric of her pocket, utterly terrified, Cyrus held on for dear life as G-force knocked him onto his ass. Swearing when his elbow got hit pretty hard as his whole body was jostled, he quickly cast the full body shield bubble to protect himself. He'd rather not break his arm or get a concussion, thanks.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of banging and swinging, Tara came to a stop. Looking up, light slipped into the pocket as a large, sharp-clawed hand reached for him slowly and gently. He hopped onto the curled fingers and gripped on tightly as he was slowly lifted.

After Tara had put him on the floor and enlarged him, it took Cyrus a moment for the world to come to rights again. When it didn't feel like the ground was going to swallow him whole anymore, he took the ruby back from Tara and slipped it into his pocket. Casting a silencing charm around them, he asked, "Where are we?"

The vampire grinned. "In the Akkad family burial vault," she said, walking up to the many stones in the wall with different names on them in odd writing.

"What language is that?" Cyrus asked curiously as he watched Tara walk along the underground hallway. The structure was massive, so every time one corridor became full they probably just punched out another wall and continued the tunnel.

"Akkadian. It's an old Semitic language."

Cyrus blinked. "_Akkadian?_ As in, Akkad, Akkadian? And what's Semitic?"

She shot him an amused look. "Maybe you need to do a little more historic reading."

"Why read history when I have you to explain it to me." When she glared at him, annoyed, he grinned. "So, care to share while you look for Dalesh?"

She huffed. "Fine. You plebeian. Akkad used to be an empire way back in the third millennium BCE. Akkadian was their language. The written form was adapted from cuneiform. And Semitic basically refers to Middle Eastern languages. You with me so far?"

Cyrus blinked languidly. "My brain is oozing between my ears. Please, continue." God but she reminded him of Hermione in that moment. A Hermione with fangs and a bad attitude, of course.

Tara snorted. "Right. Well, Sargon was the King of Akkad at some point, he had some sons, some of them got changed into vampires, and to make a short story short occasionally those descendents would have children if they were magically powerful enough. Dalesh was one of those descendents. That's why people are pissed off that I killed him. He really was a waste of space, though. Not a useful bone in his body. Ah! Here you are."

Cyrus watched curiously as Tara conjured a crow bar and started trying to pry the stone tablet labeled with small tees off the wall.

"Can you ca-"

It fell out with a grating sound, and Cyrus wandlessly caught it before it could shatter on the ground and bring the entire complex down on them.

Tara whistled softly. "Nice." Reaching into the vault, she started to pull out the coffin.

"Uh, Tara? Wouldn't it be smarter to just levitate it out? I know you've got strong arms and all, but…" he trailed off.

The vampire stopped and blinked. "Oh, right. Less noise." She pulled out her wand and waved the coffin out with a silent spell. Once it was settled gently on the ground, she pried it open and peeked inside. She nearly slammed it shut again right afterwards. It took a moment, but eventually Cyrus's nose caught a wave of the stasis potion he'd been embalmed with and gagged. God but it was awful.

"Should we take the body or the whole coffin?"

Tara frowned. "I dunno… You any good at transfiguration?"

Cyrus blinked. "Not really. That's why I conjure everything."

Her eyebrows rose. "Conjure? You can permanently conjure?"

He nodded. "Sure. Piece of cake."

The look she gave him was odd, to say the least. "You have trouble with transfiguration, but you can pull off permanent conjuring _easily?_" When Cyrus just shrugged, not knowing what the big deal was about, she snorted a laugh. "You are so weird. Well, conjure a replica of this casket and body. Take a quick peek." She motioned him over and opened the coffin again.

Ignoring the smell, he ran a cursory look over the carcass to see the level of deterioration so he could copy it. He'd seen enough dead bodies that he should be able to manage. Because of the embalming potion in the veins, however, there was very little discoloration he had to account for. Closing his eyes, he focused the details of the coffin and body into his mind and conjured a replica with his phoenix wand. Checking that the body had turned out alright, he nodded his satisfaction when another wave of death came at him and closed the lid. "Shrink the real one while I put this in the… thing," Cyrus said.

Tara's lip quirked in amusement. "It's called a burial vault," she needled, shrinking the coffin with a wave of her wand and picking it up off the floor.

Cyrus floated the fake into the vault and levitated the block that sealed it shut back into place, careful not to break the stone. Taking the shrunken coffin from Tara, he cast a charm on it that would the body in place so it wouldn't move about. Without further ado, he dropped it into his pocket. "You ready to go?"

Tara grinned. "You b-"

A loud bell sounded through the mansion, surprising both Tara and Cyrus. "Wha-" the human began, confused, but Tara interrupted.

"The alarm!" She bit her lip and tilted her head. "Shit. I don't know how they found out. You, get out of here and raise that body! It'll be harder for them to catch us if we separate."

Cyrus opened his mouth to respond, but she had already disappeared down the hallway. Swearing under his breath, he activated the ruby and ran down the other way.

"There's one down this way!" a voice shouted, and Cyrus's eyes widened as a group of vampires came bolting down the hallway. Flattening himself against the wall, he held his breath and watched with horror as the leader of the small group came to a stop right in front of him.

_Oh shit oh shit oh-_

"What the hell was an intruder doing down here?"

"Where is he now, Obernath?"

The leader, Obernath, walked forward and peered around the room. Cyrus let out a breath as the rest of the vampires continued past him. They hadn't seen him.

"I don't know. Stop lazing about and find him!"

"Yessir!"

The vampires disappeared in a blur down the hallway.

_Shit shit shit._

Cyrus ran down the hallway as fast as he could, trying to remember the route. When he ran into a dead end for the third time, he had to admit he was lost. He was fucked. Swearing in his mind, he activated his rune sight in the hope that he would be able to navigate better if he could see the wards.

He blinked. The dead end in front of him wasn't actually a dead end. It was… an illusion? Checking to see if he could walk through it unaffected, he mentally swore again. Solid. Checking to see if the illusion had a built in traps, he grinned. With a tweak of his mind, he shattered the anchoring sequence and the illusion fell.

"Down here!"

Cussing, Cyrus ran forward hoping that he wouldn't be sensed by anyone. Seeing another group of vampires coming careening down the stairs ahead, he plastered himself against the wall again and just barely managed to avoid getting trampled. Checking both ways for more traffic, he booked it down the hallway again.

Climbing the stairs taking two at a time, mentally thanking Rivehn for making the most amazing stealth rock _ever_, he tried to remember the blue prints of the mansion. Going in what he assumed was the right direction, he dodged vampires everywhere and tried not to knock anything over and give himself away.

"Well, well. Tara. I'm surprised that you'd have the audacity to break into the Akkad family mansion. Just how stupid _are_ you?" a familiar voice echoed down one hallway.

Screeching soundlessly to a halt, Cyrus poked his head around the corner in search of Tara. He found her bound and held by the arms by two vampires, while _Zirala_ smirked and poked fun at her.

Tara hissed. "Just doing a little sight seeing before I get decapitated, Zirala. How's your brother doing? I hear he's a little under the wea-"

Zirala slapped her across the face, silencing her. "You killed him, _Bast_. As I'm sure you're aware." Scoffing aristocratically, he waved a hand. "Take her to the dungeons. I'm sure father will know what to do with her when he returns."

Cyrus bit his lip and watched as Tara was dragged away. Should he try to save her? Or raise Dalesh? Shit. He didn't know.

"Wait." Zirala ordered, and the guards stopped and turned back around. "Did anyone else come with you, Tara?"

She sneered. "Even if I came with someone else, they wouldn't be stupid enough to stick around, you imbecile. What's your father _thinking_, leaving an idiot like you in charge during his absence."

Zirala slapped her again, but she just grinned. "Take the bitch away," the vampire ordered.

Cyrus bit his lip. Well. If that wasn't a subtle direction to get the fuck out of there, he was a purple camel. Going in the opposite direction of the dungeons, he tried to find the way outside. Finally, after much navigating with sight and rune sight, he found a door. Now all he had to do was… sneak across the yard. And get out of the wards. How the hell was he supposed to manage _that?_

Standing on the walkway that led to the gates, he felt the magic of the ruby in his pocket weaken for a few moments before it sputtered and died. His eyes widened. Fu-

"INTRUDER!"

Cursing, Cyrus cast an invisibility spell on himself and ducked to the ground as spells started flying overhead. Casting a full body shield, he tried to slip between the gaps of the circle surrounding him to no effect. Desperate to escape, he tried to apparate through the wards. A loud, high-pitched bell-tone echoed through the courtyard, making the vampires drop their weapons and grip their ears. Reeling from what felt like running into a freight train, Cyrus tried to apparate again with more force. The ringing got even louder. He swore, pushing and pulling and trying to get through, vampires writhing on the ground around him, and he still couldn't get through.

A cutting curse slammed his shield and sent him tumbling head over heels with the force of it. Merlin. Did all vampire families have such powerful guards? His death stick was in his hand before he even realized what he'd done, sending spells flying in every direction and blasting vampires away from him.

Finally, he had a short moment of reprieve to reinforce his full body shield. Letting out a small breath of relief, he kept throwing spell after spell as he tried to make his way to the edge of the wards with little luck. Even though his over-powered spells were nailing vampires left and right, they just kept on _coming_. Were they wearing a spell-resistant armor or something? Cussing under his breath again, he sent a particularly Dark curse at a vampire and watched, disbelieving, as it threw the vamp back a few feet but otherwise had no effect.

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. Well, if they were going to play dirty then so was he. Lifting his death stick, he sent an Avada Kedavra at the closest vampire. He watched with some satisfaction as the vampire's eyes widened and she jumped out of the way, just barely dodging the dangerous green light. He was in the middle of swearing when a curse hit the ground behind him and the resulting explosion of dirt and stone sent him flying through the air and careening into the ground. He just barely managed to roll with the force of it, narrowly avoiding breaking his neck, but his full body shield broke with his concentration.

Getting up to dodge another dangerous-looking spell, he didn't notice the vampire behind him until he was ploughed face-first into the ground. Cussing again, he tried to buck the vampire off of him to no avail. It was almost as if the vampire was made of _steel_. Suddenly, a pair of fangs sank into his neck and there was _pain_. Screaming as the fangs pulled at his flesh, he tried to throw the vampire off him with a wave of magic. When the familiar repressing aura of the vampire settled around him, he used the trick Tara had taught him and deftly sent the vampire flying into the air. Gripping the bleeding wound on his neck, he managed to vanish most of the blood and heal the bite enough for the blood to stop before he had to dodge another volley of curses sent his way or chance his shield failing.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. _Vampires._ With a roar of pure magic, he called the whip of fiendfyre he'd recently learnt into existence with a wave of his death stick. Pouring power into the spell, it literally came alive around him, encircling him in a protective tornado of fire. Knowing he wouldn't have much oxygen left, he panicked. Let the fire dissipate, he probably died. It would likely be gruesome. Keep the fire, he'd definitely die. But it would be quick.

_Fuck_.

Biting his lip for one more try before he surrendered or killed himself bringing down the wards on the mansion, he focused on a single thought with his entire reserve of magic.

Escape.

The world dissolved in a flash of light.

_oOo_

Cyrus collapsed to the ground, staring uncomprehendingly at the four walls of his room at Shikaan. How… _the hell?_ Patting himself down to see if he had any wounds or had lost some limbs without his knowledge, he let out a disbelieving sound of relief. He was alive. He was free, and he was alive.

How the hell had that happened?

Falling back against the floor, he pulled the dead ruby out of his pocket and examined it with his rune sight. The spells were gone. There was absolutely no magic left in the stone. Did that mean that it only had a specific amount of energy? And the charge had run out? That was the only reason he could think of for the spells to just fail out of the blue like that.

Cyrus snorted. He had the bad luck to fall into this kind of shit, and the good luck to fall out of it. That was it. He was cursed.

Rolling over with a groan and pushing himself to his feet, he pulled the coffin of Dalesh out of his pocket. He needed to get Dalesh to confess to raping and killing Amelia, _and_ he needed to get Tara freed somehow. He rubbed his forehead. One crisis at a time.

With that in mind, he apparated to Switzerland.

As soon as he arrived, he conjured several lights and set to work making two salt circles. One for around Dalesh to hold him in, and one around himself in case the cemetery got raised again by accident. And just as an extra precaution, he kept his large bag of salt sitting next to him in case he needed to wandlessly whip it around.

You could never be too careful. Not with zombies.

Closing his eyes and centering himself, he drew his natural magic back into his body and let his death magic reign free. Taking in a calming breath, he sent a large ball of it into the dead body in the casket. Just in case.

Nothing happened.

His jaw fell open, and he pumped more death magic into the corpse. Still nothing. Letting out a frustrated scream, he pulled at his short hair furiously.

What the hell!

Plopping down onto the ground, he tried to think of anything that might be preventing him from raising Dalesh. He came up empty. It must have something to do with the fact that Dalesh was either vampire, magical, or both. Yankovich had said there was a different between raising magic beings, and then between each species. Why couldn't he have just answered Cyrus's question instead of giving him that 'you're not ready' crap?

Taking a deep, calming breath, he tried to think about it logically. One: raising magical dead was possible. If it weren't, Yankovich would have just told him so. Two: pumping zombie-army levels of death magic into said zombie didn't make a lick of difference. Three: Er, why was that? Why didn't it make a difference? He was missing something here. Something important.

Chewing on his lip, he stared at the dead body of Dalesh. Maybe… maybe his magic sensitivity could help him. Well, even if it didn't it was still worth a shot. Closing his eyes, he opened his senses to the world around him and tried to find the dead body. It took a moment, but soon he could feel the massive amount of death magic he'd stuffed into the carcass. Reaching out, he took most of it back into his core and left just enough behind to raise a two hundred year old zombie. Better safe than sorry.

After that, he just 'felt around' to see if he could find what was missing. After poking around the body for a couple of minutes, he kept coming back to an odd, empty hole. Curious, he tried pouring death magic into it, but whatever the hole was just spat it right back out again. Frowning, he bit his lip. That 'hole'… it was in the dead body's chest. Where Cyrus's own _core_ was. It couldn't be… could it? Didn't magic leave the body along with the soul when a person died?

His eyes widened at the thought. No way. What if… what if a magical being needed a core to function, as well as death magic to animate the dead tissue?! Trying, and failing, not to get his hopes up, he tried pouring some of his magic into the hole and grinned when it didn't get immediately rejected. He kept pouring until it was full and wouldn't accept any more magic.

Damnit. Still no raised zombie. Willing to give it one last try, he stuffed another wad of death magic into it, not really expecting it to rise.

With a hacking cough, Dalesh rolled over onto his side, dust flying out of his mouth. Cyrus flinched back, taken completely by surprise, and watched with wide eyes as the vampire stood and turned around in a circle.

"Ah shit," was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Turning his head a bit more, Dalesh caught sight of Cyrus and raised an accusing finger. "You?! What the- you little shit!" With a hiss, the vampire jumped at him and smashed face first into the barrier created by the salt. Swearing under his breath, the zombie glared at him and cracked his broken nose back into place, leaving it purple with broken blood vessels. Cyrus winced. "What the fuck do you want, clot bag?"

Cyrus glared. "I want to know if you raped and killed Amelia!"

The vampire stared at him for a moment before smirking and laughing. "Even if I did it, I would never admit, human. Do you know nothing about vampires?" he mocked, crossing his arms across his chest.

Shit. Cyrus frowned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Dalesh was supposed to admit to his crime and then this hell would be over. "I order you to tell me if you raped and killed Amelia."

Dalesh looked at him like he was stupid. "My mind hasn't changed in the past two seconds, you infantile excuse for a sack of flesh."

Cyrus let out an angry breath. Thinking back to the other time he'd raised a vampire that was almost capable of sentient thought, he wondered if infusing his voice with death magic would work… Oh well. Wasn't like he had anything to lose, right? **"I order you to tell me if you raped and killed Amelia."**

Dalesh looked for a moment as if he'd been punched in the stomach, but after a moment he straightened again looking completely normal. "Whatever that was, it didn't work. Now why don't you crack open this circle and let me go, hm?"

Cyrus was the one this time looking at Dalesh like he was an idiot. "And let you start feasting on the first person you ran into? Not likely."

The vampire glared at him. "Does it look like I'm going to break out in a case of rabies, human?"

"Yes."

Dalesh punched the salt circle again, and this time his fist turned into a ball of dead flesh and shattered bone. He examined his own hand for a moment and glared at Cyrus again. "This is all your fault. It's your fault I'm dead, and it's your fault I'm standing here with a bloodless, smashed fist."

The human snorted. "It's your own damn fault you mutilated your hand, idiot. And I may be partially responsible for your death, but you're the weakling who couldn't survive Tara. Your own shortcomings aren't my fault."

The vampire hissed at him. "You keep telling yourself that, human. Doesn't it bother you that you're responsible for the death of someone? A fellow _student?_"

Cyrus pretended to ponder that for a second. "Nope."

When Dalesh hissed again, Cyrus started to get irritated. "Weakling human! Release me!"

"Uh, let me think about that for a second. Nope."

Dalesh hissed.

"If you fucking hiss at me again, vampire, I'm going to shove a broom down your throat and then sew your mouth shut. Do we have an understanding?"

The vampire sneered, and then hissed with a smirk. "What are you going to do about it? I'm already dead, moron."

Cyrus wondered if pain curses worked on dead bodies. Pulling out his wand, he cast _crucio_, dredging up enough hate of the vampire in front of him to get it to last for a couple seconds. And low and behold, it actually worked.

Dalesh stopped writhing on the ground and screaming a few moments after the spell ended. When the vampire rolled onto his side and glared, Cyrus could taste the hate on his tongue. Brandishing his death stick again, he raised an eyebrow. "You want another pain curse? Or are you going to admit to the raping and killing of Amelia."

The vampire spat at him, but as he didn't have any saliva, nothing came out. "Go fuck a corpse, necromancer."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't fuck you if I was paid in souls." With a _yank_, he pulled the magic and death magic out of Dalesh's body. The corpse collapsed to the ground with a thud.

Now what.

Letting out a frustrated breath, he stuffed the dead body full of magic again, and this time added less death magic. After a moment, Dalesh twitched and slowly pulled himself to his feet, staring ahead with a vague sense of intelligence in its eyes.

"Did you rape and kill Amelia?"

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "Why would I tell you?"

Cyrus cussed viciously. Fucking stupid vampires. **"Did you rape and kill Amelia?"**

Dalesh twitched for a few moments before breaking out into a full seizure. Cyrus swore and cast a restraining spell on the vampire before he could beat up his already damaged body even more my accident. This just wasn't his day. Pulling the death and normal magic back out of the corpse, he sat down on the ground with a huff. Shit. What was he going to do now?

Levitating the corpse back into its coffin, he stared guilty at the many purple markings all over the vampire's face and his destroyed hand. Using a bit of healing magic, he healed the broken blood vessels in his skin and the broken nose. Opening his eyes, he nodded to himself. It wasn't entirely obvious that the dead body had been through the ringer now. Next, he tried to reconstruct the hand. It wasn't as simple as he thought it would be. He had to break the bones back into place, and sometimes the pieces didn't fit back where they were supposed to be. He did his best, but it still looked a little… off, from the outside.

Posing the dead body in the coffin as it had come, he cast a stasis charm to hold the body in place and closed the lid. He needed a game plan. He needed to get Dalesh to confess, or this entire thing would have been pointless. And he needed to get Tara out of the Akkad mansion. Rubbing a hand over his face, he thought of Yankovich. Would the demon help him? Could he try to cash in that 'favor' that Vladovich mentioned? Or did Yankovich still see the private lessons as being sufficient payment for Cyrus helping free Marianna?

Letting out a depressed sigh, he shrunk the coffin and disapparated back to Shikaan. He hoped he'd be able to find the demon. It _was_ almost eleven at night.

As it turned out, Yankovich was nowhere to be found, so Cyrus found himself wandering around the empty and dark halls of Shikaan, ignoring the students he passed, but not so much that he was unaware of any potential attacks they might send his way. Finally, his wandering feet brought him to Rivehn's classroom, and then the vampire's office door. Staring at the foreboding, loopy script of his Runes Professor's nameplate, he tentatively knocked at the door.

To his immense surprise, the vampire opened the door a few moments later.

Rivehn stared down at with a puzzled expression. "Mr. Obsidian. Is there something I can help you with?"

Cyrus licked his lips nervously. "Actually, there is."

_-Toki Mirage-_

_**HELP WANTED:**_ _**I am looking for someone with Garage Band (for mac) that would be willing to edit my pod fics for me, because it's too time consuming and I have too much shit to do. :P Anyone interested? PM me**_

Yay! Finally got 16 out. I had a lot of trouble getting it up to word count, but I'm proud to say that I didn't succumb and commit a horrible crime: useless padding. :) So I'm happy.

I've heard some very nice things about my smut! And I'd like to send out a huge thank you to everyone who took the time to either post a comment or come back to ffdotnet to review!

For those of you who don't like gay smut:

I'd like to take a moment to remind everyone that this story _will_ contain such sexual material again in the future. I had someone make a negative comment about the smutfic ('I read with growing horror' comes to mind), and thought I should clarify the rating of this story: While on ffdotnet it is rated M, there will be huge chunks cut out of the story later on where sex has been removed. I will not be editing the 'cut' to make sense, so those of you who don't want to read the sexual bits will be missing the character development and plot weaved throughout these scenes. If this bothers you, go read a het fic.

**Forum:**

Please feel free to come join us on the forum! There is a section for BS-related questions as well as a conversation thread where you can talk with other fanreaders and myself. We've had a couple new faces in the past week, and someone told me I should advertise more. Thus, this paragraph. :D

Thanks for reading!

_Edit Aug 5/09 – Inconsistencies with the full body shield during the battle fixed._


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Trial

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Seventeen:

_oOo_

"Something tells me it is rather serious if you are coming to me so late on a school night. What's the problem, Mr. Obsidian?" Rivehn asked from where he'd sat, relaxed, on the edge of his desk after inviting Cyrus into his office.

The human nervously licked his lips and cast his eyes around the room. It looked the same as it had when Yankovich had been frantic with Marianna's disappearance, and the following… Kiss. Taking a fortifying breath, he turned his eyes back to Rivehn. "I'm in a bit of a… bind. And I was going to ask Yankovich for help, but I can't find him. So I thought… maybe you could help me."

"Ah. Yes, he's busy with a project right now. So what is your problem?" The vampire raised an eyebrow.

Cyrus bit his lip. He might as well just get it out. "A while back, Tara… um, I don't know her last name. She's the librarian's TA. Well, I'm her donor and she took me to a student vampire meeting. There we ran into Dalesh and he implied that he had… raped and killed her old girlfriend, Amelia."

Rivehn's eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. "Implied?"

The human scowled. "He all but outright said it. He was taunting Tara. Anyway, when Tara just let him continue mouthing off Amelia, I sort of… got angry and cast a cutting curse. He managed to dodge, but he threatened my life and Tara used it as an excuse to kill him. I don't really understand the politics of it all… but now ACIF is looking into it, and Tara says that if we don't find proof that Dalesh killed Amelia, then I'm as good as dead, and she might be killed too."

Rivehn blinked, slowly. "How you manage to land yourself in these situations I will never know." The human blushed and looked down at the buttons of Rivehn's relaxed, muggle dress shirt. Huh. "Dalesh is one of the descendants of Akkad. They may do worse than kill you." When Cyrus looked up, worried, he winced at the firm line of Rivehn's mouth. "What will you do if Dalesh did not kill Amelia?"

The human blinked. "I don't know. Try not to get killed I suppose. But I'm sure Dalesh did it. He's still refusing to tell me even though…"

Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "'He is still'? Obsidian… what have you done."

A ball of iron sank in his stomach at the expression on the vampire's face. "Well, in order to find proof, Tara and I figured if we could raise Dalesh, we could get him to confess. Except… Tara got captured after we stole the body and I just barely got out of there alive."

Rivehn let out a sigh and covered his face with the palm of his hand. "You _stole_ his body."

The human nodded nervously.

"Were you injured?"

"Well, I had a shield up so most of the curses didn't hit, but I got bit-"

Suddenly, Rivehn was standing right in front of him. "Where?" the vampire asked, a no-nonsense tone making his voice sharp.

Cyrus floundered for a moment. "N-neck," he said, touching the left side of his neck. He was unprepared for the vampire grabbing his head and pushing it to the side in order to examine the mostly-healed wound. When Rivehn said something in that demonic language that sounded distinctly like a curse, he really got worried. "What? What is it?"

"The bite of any magical being or creature can have a side-effect, Obsidian. When vampires feed, normally there are no ill effects, but there are also lover and servant bites. If a servant bite isn't overpowered by another vampire within a certain time period, then the one bitten becomes bonded to them. Some humans are powerful, or willful enough to fight a servant bond in their own right, but most are not. If you had let this bite fester, you would have been bound to that vampire. Though, I am unsure whether the mental aspects of the bond would allow the vampire to enslave your mind, as you are an _infractus mens._"

Cyrus's jaw just dropped. "_What?!_ How- how do I get rid of it?! And how come I didn't find anything like this in those books on vampires?"

Rivehn snorted. "Vampires hardly wish to explain their customs and culture to outsiders. Most of the people who write those books are such outsiders who have managed to gleam enough information to put it in a book. I am not surprised they're lacking. As to how you rid yourself of it… If you'd like, I can break the bond for you."

Hope lightened the lead in his stomach. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

The vampire chuckled lightly. "You came to me for help with this situation of yours, did you not? Breaking a servant bond for you will merely be added to your debt."

Cyrus blinked. "Debt?"

Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think I would go through so much trouble and not expect payment, did you?" The vampire had a wicked gleam in his eye.

Cyrus licked his lips. "Um, what kind of debt is… would this be?"

"Well. It would not be a life debt, but it would be substantial. And I may not call on it for many years. It is your choice."

Cyrus chewed on his lip, thinking about it. Rivehn didn't seem like a bad vampire. In fact, compared to most of the vampires out there, he was downright civil and open-minded. And a cool teacher at that. Would it be a horrible thing to be indebted to him? It wasn't like he had much of a choice, though. "What will the limitations be?"

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "Limitations? What 'limitations' would you like?"

Cyrus swallowed, remembering his not-so-pleasant experience with another adult. "No sexual favors?"

Rivehn actually smiled. It was small, but it was there. "That is understandable. Anything else?"

"Uh, nothing that would kill me? And… I don't want to be forced to kill someone else against my will, either. If I kill someone it's in battle, or because they bloody deserve it."

Rivehn's smile grew, an amused gleam to his eyes. "That is a rather high demand, Obsidian. But… As I am perfectly capable of killing someone myself, I will let it stand. Are there any other limitations or shall I break this bond now?"

Cyrus thought about it for a second. What else would he never be caught dead doing? "Oh. Forcing me to reveal my secrets against my will." It would be very _bad_ if Rivehn told him to reveal that he was Harry Potter to the world… And even if it was highly unlikely that the vampire would ever do that, it was best to be prepared.

Rivehn inclined his head. "Very well. I accept your terms."

The human swallowed nervously. "That's it? Just like that?"

A slow smirk spread across his face. "No, that is not it. I would advise you to be more careful in your wording when making deals with vampires in the future."

The human's eyes widened, but before he could say anything Rivehn gently tilted his head to the side and sank his fangs into the column of flesh. He let out a hiss of pleasure as aphrodisiac set his unprepared nerves on fire.

Letting out a helpless moan, he couldn't stop his weakened knees from collapsing on him, but he was caught in Rivehn's hands before he could hit the floor or dislodge the vampire's mouth from his neck. To his growing horror, an erection strained against his basilisk pants, eerily reminiscent of the last time the vampire bit him.

His consciousness faded in and out on the high, until finally he came, fireworks of pleasure going off behind his eyelids. Coming back down to earth as the aphrodisiac metabolized, he found Rivehn watching him with a hint of concern. He blinked languidly. "W-whoa," he croaked, bringing a hand up to rub his face."

"You are fine? I am afraid I may have been close to using too much aphrodisiac. The person I have been feeding from lately… has a high tolerance."

Cyrus let out a whistling breath. "High tolerance… how can you get tolerance for… stuff like _that_," he muttered to himself, disbelieving.

Rivehn's lips quirked. "You can hold yourself upright now?"

Cyrus blinked and abruptly straightened his spine to stand again. Yeesh. He'd just collapsed into a boneless pile of goo there. He could see Rivehn's bites getting… addictive. Looking down at himself, embarrassed, he cleaned up the mess in his pants with a burst of wandless magic. He was getting pretty good at casting spells from all body parts. Healing class had helped with that. If you were aiming to heal tissue or bones, you had to move your magic to focus on that area of your body. Though it did feel… weird, to cast spells from your… groin area.

It was more inconspicuous, though, which was what he was going for.

Rivehn just raised an amused eyebrow.

"So, is this bond broken now? Do I have to worry about being some vampire's human slave?"

The Runes Professor leaned back against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms imperiously over his chest. His posture _screamed_ 'just who do you think I _am?_'

The human blushed and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Er, right. Thanks."

Rivehn licked the last remnants of blood from his lips, chuckling throatily. "Do not thank me yet."

Cyrus didn't think he liked the sound of that. "Er… So… how are you going to save Tara?"

The vampire moved away and sat back down on his desk. "I need more information. Her location, the vampires you have pissed off, and any other stupid mistakes you may have made so they do not come and… 'bite me in the ass', as you humans say. Or ruin her Trial."

Cyrus blinked. "Wait. Trial? What trial? Tara never mentioned a trial. She said the Akkad were investigating her, but never anything about a trial."

Two black eyebrows rose in surprise. "Indeed? Perhaps she did not wish to worry you. It is common knowledge among the Bast and Akkad clan students here at Shikaan. I am surprised you did not hear of it through the 'grapevine'."

The human stared in incomprehension.

"From my understanding, ACIF wished to execute her and BIS delayed by demanding a Trial. That is why you were not approached until recently. The two clans have been preparing their cases." Rivehn smirked slightly. "And the paperwork."

"Wait, so… when's this Trial?"

"I believe it is tomorrow. Well, if you consider that it is after midnight – today."

Cyrus's eyes bugged out of his head. "And she never told me?!"

Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "Does it appear that I know the inner workings of a vampire student's mind?"

"No… I guess you wouldn't… So you heard about all this through the gossip in the school?"

Rivehn snorted softly. "Hardly. There are other sources of information available to a vampire of my age, and Tara and I are both vampires of the Bast clan. You are fortunate this is the case, or I may not have been so willing to help you."

Cyrus nervously licked his lips. "Yeah…" Thank Merlin for small favors. "So, how do we get her free?"

The vampire stared thoughtfully at the far wall. "As I said before, I need information about the circumstances in regards to the theft of Dalesh's body, and any other information that may cause problems later. Leave nothing out."

"Well… Tara got us through the wards. The guards didn't catch us then. It was after we'd already stolen the body. I'd already put a permanent conjuration in place of coffin and corpse, so hopefully the guards didn't check the burial vaults after they discovered us in the mansion."

"I see. I will confer with BIS as to what we're going to do with the stolen… goods. They may wish to keep it or send someone to surreptitiously return it. As for Tara herself… she will probably be held in the ACIF dungeons. If she were captured not long before you arrived here-"

"Actually… I tried to raise Dalesh before I came here. I was going to go to Yankovich for help, but he wasn't here."

Rivehn shook his head with a disappointed breath of air. Cyrus couldn't meet his eyes. "You should be glad that he is not here. He would have gutted you. And told you to… 'solve your own fucking problems', I believe."

Cyrus stared at the vampire that had just so uncharacteristically sworn. "Oh," was all he could come up with to say.

Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Is there anything else I should know before I contact BIS?"

Cyrus thought about it. "Um… well," he started counting on his fingers, "killing Dalesh, raiding the corpse, getting caught… Can't really think of something else. Sorry."

The vampire nodded. "Very well. Please place your hand on my arm, as I am going to shadow walk us to the BIS headquarters."

The human nodded and did as instructed. He felt the familiar sensation of falling, except this time it lasted longer than all the other times he'd experienced it. When they finally came to a dizzying halt, Cyrus would have fallen over if not for Rivehn. He looked up at the vampire's puzzled violet eyes and blushed, embarrassed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Magical forms of travel hate me."

Rivehn's low chuckle echoed in the large hall they had appeared in, making Cyrus look around himself curiously. He'd never seen anything quite so… vast. He stood with Rivehn on the edge of an open space that was even larger than the Great Hall, with giant pillars holding up the ceiling. As Rivehn led him through the maze of vampires and white marble, he couldn't help but stare curiously in ever direction around him. Most of the other beings ignored his existence, but a few watched he and Rivehn curiously as the older vampire led him to the far end of the hall.

They passed through a large archway and into a wide hallway, continuing at a pace that was relaxed for Rivehn's long legs and on the edge of speed walking for Cyrus. After the human got thoroughly turned around in the large building, Rivehn finally brought them to a stop in front of two double doors. The vampire slipped inside, holding it open for Cyrus and then quietly closing it behind him.

It was pure pandemonium inside. Vampires were rushing left and right with stacks of papers in their arms and harried expressions on their faces. The apparent 'conductor' of the chaos stood in the middle of the disaster zone, barking orders with a look of pure _fury_ on his face. Cyrus inched behind Rivehn, slowly, when the vampire's attention turned to them.

"High Priest! I'm sorry, but we're a little busy at the moment, as you can probably see," the vampire said as he walked forward, tempering the anger in his eyes. Cyrus blinked. High _what?_

"Chief Investigator," Rivehn intoned with a respectful nod. "I can see that you are quite… preoccupied at the moment, but I have a matter of some importance that should be brought to your attention."

"Of course, High Priest. How can I be of service?"

Rivehn was about to speak when a woman came stumbling up to them with a hasty bow to Rivehn, the skin around her eyes strained with stress. "Forgive me, High Priest. Chief, we have a problem. ACIF is demanding that the Trial be cancelled and Bast be executed in less than an hour."

The vampire's eyes narrowed angrily. "Damn them! We're barely getting caught up with all of this shit. Tell them they do not have the authority to cancel a Trial. It will proceed as scheduled, regardless of whether or not we have already lost it," he barked, and she nodded quickly and vanished in a blur of inhuman speed. The Chief growled under his breath, "Stupid fledglings destroying proper procedure."

He probably would have continued muttering, but Rivehn brought his attention back on track by clearing his throat quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, High Priest. Please, go on?"

Rivehn inclined his head. "It is concerning Tara of Bast."

The Chief's eyes bugged out of his head. "Tara?! You have more information?! I've been trying to figure out what that blasted girl had in her mind, going and torching the body of a material witness, but no one seems to know anything!"

"Excuse me?" Rivehn asked, though he probably wasn't nearly as flabbergasted as Cyrus. "She burned a body?"

"Yes! We got a call from ACIF half an hour ago saying that Tara of Bast infiltrated one of the Akkad mansions with the help of an unknown assailant and destroyed the body of Dalesh of Akkad. ACIF insists that she was trying to cover her tracks, but last I heard the girl was dead set on Dalesh being the one who raped and killed Amelia Tatrean a couple years ago. Terrible case, that. The curse cast on the body melted it only a few hours after her body was discovered, and with no leads on a culprit, the investigation went cold. And then the blasted girl went and burned the evidence! After we _just_ finished negotiations for use of the body during the Trial, and what does she do? She flushes all our work down the toilet and destroys any chance of winning her Trial."

Rivehn stared at him for a moment before turning his head to look down at Cyrus. "Obsidian?" he asked, as if he couldn't decide between feeling amusement or befuddlement.

The human was staring at the Chief Investigator in shock. What the _hell?_

"Who is this, High Priest?" the vampire asked, a confused expression on his face. "A human? Why is he here?"

Rivehn's violet eyes stared intently into Cyrus's own, ignoring the Chief. "Obsidian? Would you care to explain? I was under the assumption that Tara had been captured, not that she had burned a body."

Cyrus shook his head, still not fully comprehending what he'd heard just moments before. "It's impossible. There's no way that that was Dalesh's body."

The Chief looked incredibly annoyed. "I saw the remains of the charred corpse myself, human. My material witness is nothing but charcoal."

Cyrus shook his head. "No. That's impossible. Because I have his body with me right now."

The vampire's eyes narrowed and he stalked forward, getting right in Cyrus's personal space. "Now listen here, human," he growled quietly, "we don't joke around here about shit like that. So you had better _explain_ or _retract your words_."

Cyrus resisted the urge to touch his pocket where the shrunken coffin of Dalesh sat. "I meant exactly what I said," he said stubbornly, drawing on his courage in the face of the vampire's furious expression. "Tara and I went to the Akkad mansion to steal Dalesh's body, and that was exactly what we did. I left a permanent conjuration in place of the real body and casket, so _again_, it is impossible that the body burned was Dalesh's because I have it _here in my pocket._"

The Chief stared at him, taking a step back. "That's impossible. You- you were the unknown assailant that accompanied Tara?" Cyrus nodded, and the vampire's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. "And you got away… they still don't know how you did it." He frowned. "Show me the body. I want to know if this is real or a pipe dream."

Cyrus shrugged and pulled the coffin carefully out of his pocket. The vampire reached to snatch it, but the human took a step back and held it to his chest distrustfully. He'd gone through a lot of shit to get this thing. But when the Chief hissed at him, his survival instincts kicked in and he handed it over. He watched as the shrinking charm was removed but the stabilization charm was left in place. Cyrus hadn't wanted the body to get jostled by accident – didn't want to have to explain any more bruising. He'd already crushed a hand by accident. Well… Dalesh had crushed it, technically.

The Chief touched the body in disbelief, and Cyrus began to feel awkward when other vampires in the room stopped what they were doing to come and stare.

"Why would Tara want to steal Dalesh's body if you guys were going to get it for this 'trial' anyway?" Cyrus asked as the Chief inspected the corpse with deft fingers.

The vampire snorted. "She's a fledgling. In order to win a Trial, we often have to keep secrets from our own in order to keep information from getting back to the opposition. I suppose it was too far a leap for her to figure out we'd ask for the body ourselves. Who knows." He frowned and sat back on his haunches. "They must have done a good job sealing him back up again. In the reports it said he got cut in half… You're a hundred percent sure that this body is authentic?" the Chief asked, not looking up.

Cyrus nodded. "Yes."

"Hm. And how do you know you didn't steal a copy of a copy?"

The human was beginning to get annoyed with being second guessed at every turn. "Because I raised it myself, and he is as much a dick in death as he was in life," he snapped.

The Chief looked away from the body in surprise. "You're a necromancer?"

Cyrus shifted nervously. "Only a first year. I couldn't get him to tell me anything."

The vampire nodded. "Yes, that makes sense. My childe couldn't successfully raise a magical vampire for a few years when she went to school." Suddenly, his somber expression was destroyed by a vicious grin. The Chief cackled. "Take that, ACIF! I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when we show up with Akkad's body. I bet they planned to burn him from the beginning, and Tara was just a convenient scapegoat to pin the blame on." He shut the coffin with a wide grin and shrank it before slipping it inside his pocket. "I'm not letting this out of my sight until the Trial."

Rivehn raised an amused eyebrow. "Indeed. And what of Tara's capture?"

The Chief looked thoughtful for a moment before he barked out a name. Another vampire appeared at his elbow in seconds. "Contact ACIF. They will relinquish custody of Tara of Bast over to us until her trial, or the clan standing in as neutral party: Xie Long Zu. I want her out of their hands as soon as possible. If she gets killed by 'accident' while in their custody, our Trial falls through the floor and we never find out if Dalesh of Akkad _did_ kill Amelia Tatrean. Understood?"

"Yessir!" the vampire barked before disappearing with a blur of color.

The Chief turned to Rivehn. "Is there anything else you require? There are a few loose ends I have to tie before the trial tomorrow morning. With Tara in ACIF custody, she is unable to bring her human donor to the Trial herself, so the responsibility falls to me. And no one seems to know his name." The vampire blinked and turned to Cyrus. "You're a friend of hers, right? Do you know who her donor is by chance?"

The human shifted nervously on his feet. "That would be me."

The Chief grinned. "Perfect! One less thing I have to deal with."

Rivehn inclined his head. "It seems as if you have everything in control, Chief Investigator. It is taking place at the Tribunal, I trust? What time?"

The Chief looked surprised. "You're coming? I mean, forgive me, I didn't mean to be rude, I'm just surprised that you have taken such an interest in this case."

Rivehn inclined his head. "I will be attending."

There was an awkward pause until the Chief seemed to clue in. "Oh, right! The Trial begins at 8 am. The necromancer is scheduled to come at 10 am."

"Very well." He turned to Cyrus. "What will you do with Mr. Obsidian until the Trial?"

The Chief frowned. "Well, I guess we'll have to put him somewhere. He's a rather important witness, and while he's not under Trial himself, he did play a significant part in Dalesh's death. Without Tara here to bring him to the Trial… we'll have to keep him here. But we don't have any quarters, so we'll probably lock him in a cell for the night."

Cyrus's jaw fell open. "What?!"

The Chief flashed his fangs in a grin. "Sorry kid. Unless there's another vampire here to vouch for you and make sure you make trial, the dungeons are the only rooms we got. We've just got to hope you don't get eaten by accident."

Cyrus paled. "Y-you're not serious… right?"

The Chief shrugged. "It's happened a couple times before."

Rivehn's lips quirked, amused. "I will leave him in your care, then."

Cyrus stared as the vampire just walked out the door, leaving him standing there. That… that… bloody vampires! So Rivehn's end of the bargain was over, huh? Just like that? Next time he made a deal with a vampire, he was accounting for every eventuality. And putting it on paper! So they couldn't find any loopholes!

"So, human. Or was it Obsidian? Follow Anne here to where you're going to sleep tonight. I have other things to do," the Chief said before walking off to bark out more orders at his staff.

After glaring at his back for a moment, he turned his attention to the female vampire that had appeared beside him. She gestured him to follow her without a word.

When they'd finally arrived at what appeared to be the dungeons, she motioned him inside with a bored expression.

Cyrus looked between the cell and the vampire. "Wait, you're just going to lock me in there? No food? No blankets?"

She looked annoyed. "You have a wand. You can conjure yourself a bed. Don't try to disapparate, though. There are wards. And lastly, human, we are vampires. We don't _keep_ human sustenance in our dungeons. Now get inside, or I will toss you in."

Glaring angrily, magic broiling under his skin, he walked inside. The door closed with a clang of metal and flare of magic. He hated being locked up. It reminded him of the time Dumbledore had kept him captive inside Hogwarts. At least this time he didn't have magic-suppressing cuffs on him.

Pulling out his phoenix wand – fine spell casting was easier with a focus, and his concentration was shot from fatigue – he started conjuring all the materials he'd need for a decent night of sleep. He didn't bother to change out of his basilisk armor, instead just casting a cleaning and refreshing charm on himself. Feeling not quite so gross anymore, he reached into one of his bottomless bags and pulled out a bottle of water and an apple he'd packed for the 'stake out' of the Akkad wards. It was a good thing Tara had had the presence of mind to tell him to bring some provisions.

Leaning against the uncomfortable stone wall, Cyrus let out a sigh. He wished he'd had the opportunity to ask after Tara's safety – he had no way of knowing if she managed to get released from ACIF. If she got 'accidentally killed', as the Chief had said, he was going to be very pissed. One, he now owed a debt to Rivehn. Two, he'd broken in and out of a vampire mansion to get a body that had now been _confiscated_ by BIS for evidence. Three, if she died…

He was just as dead.

_oOo_

Cyrus stared around himself in surprise at the building the Bast vampire, Anne, had shadow walked them to. Well, castle was probably the more accurate name. It looked very similar to Hogwarts. Which brought to question that if vampires were so old, why would their Tribunal be a medieval castle?

Maybe Tara would know… If he even got the chance to talk to her before the Trial. Which didn't seem all that likely.

"This way, human," Anne said, walking down a side corridor. She'd picked him up from his cell a half hour before the Trial was scheduled to start, saying he needed to be there early just like everyone else. He'd tried to ask her about what he should expect, but she hadn't been very forthcoming with any information. In fact, she'd outright told him to 'shut up'. Bitch. He'd never even gotten the chance to ask how long this Trial was going to take. He had classes to go to if he didn't get killed at the end of it. Welkins was going to be pissed he'd missed Weapons and Battle, but luckily Healer Svea and Professor Catchpool were a little more forgiving. He'd just have to go pick up the assignments he missed. Professor Claerant, on the other hand… well, his Dark Arts and Their Defense teacher could be just as bad as Welkins.

Ugh.

Clearing his depressing thoughts, Cyrus walked quickly to catch up, glancing around at the sparse walls and occasional tapestry or suit of armor. It wasn't long before the small corridor opened up into a large lecture hall, benches curved and raised towards the back, where Cyrus currently stood and a crowd of vampires milled about. At the front of the room, sat a large desk and gavel, as well as a bunch of what were probably assistants. The 'judge' had yet to make an appearance.

Cyrus frowned at the foreign-looking vampires that lined the walls and stood guard at the front, weapons bare and red dragons decorating their armor. Almost all of them appeared to be of Asian descent, and they looked very intimidating with how… seriously they seemed to take their duty. One vampire who had gotten too close to the 'floor' was backing away from the blade held to his neck, hands raised in surrender.

"The _fa guan_ will call you to the stand when it's time for your testimony. So be a good human and sit," Anne commanded before she disappeared abruptly into the shadows of the corridor.

Cyrus's mouth fell open before he glared at the shadow she had vanished into. Feeling overwhelmed, he forced himself to stop staring at the sight of the militia surrounding the court hall and instead searched the benches for any signs of a familiar face. Catching sight of Rivehn, he let out a relieved breath and picked his way through the milling vampires, careful not to bump into anyone who might decide to snap his neck like a twig.

"Oooh, a human. Looks like the buffet just walked in," a female purred as she stepped right in front of him, trailing a long, red nail down his cheek. "What is your business here, human?"

Cyrus tried to keep the mixture of annoyance and anxiety churning in his stomach off his face. "I'm a witness in the Trial," he said, bringing his magic to the surface of his skin in case he needed it to protect himself.

She pouted, and then suddenly focused on something over his shoulder. Cyrus frowned and looked behind him, catching sight of one of the warriors staring right at them. He could feel the tickling of mental communication between the two vampires, and after a moment, she completely disappeared into the crowd as if she hadn't stopped him at all.

Frowning, he continued on his way to the bench where Rivehn sat, pausing at the end. The vampire sat a few feet in, reading a book. "Excuse me, Professor? Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked cautiously, glancing around at the vampires watching him approach their… what had the Chief called him? 'High Priest'? Not that Cyrus had any clue what _that_ meant.

Again, he could feel the slight tickling of telepathy. He tried not to be bothered by the fact that he couldn't pick up a word of it, even though he knew some non-vampires _could_. Xanthir had tried to teach him once but failed miserably. Cyrus didn't know if this was because he was terrible at mental arts (such as Occlumency), or it was a part of being an… _infractus mens_.

But somehow he didn't think asking Rivehn, the only one who seemed to have any information on this mental 'disorder', whether he'd ever be able to eavesdrop on vampire conversation was the way to go.

Said vampire finally looked up from the book he'd been reading with a blank expression, and all telepathic communication nearby slowed to a trickle. His eyes examined Cyrus for a moment, until finally he inclined his head and turned back to his book. Letting out a relieved sigh, Cyrus sat down at the edge of the bench, leaving enough room for another person between them. In an attempt to relax, he reached into his bag and pulled out one of his Runes textbooks. He found it really difficult to concentrate, though, with the low murmuring voices around him and the growing anticipation he could nearly _smell_ in the air.

Nearly twenty minutes later, a voice finally came from below.

"The Tribunal of the five honorable vampire clans with the Honorable _fa guan _Cheng of Xie Long Zu, the Blood Dragon clan, is now in session. All rise."

The vampires who had been milling about disappeared in blurs of light, quickly finding seats. Cyrus followed Rivehn's example and stood, quickly shrinking his book and slipping it inside one of his bottomless bags.

Two guards exited the door first, eyes alert and swords raised in defense as they cleared the area as absent of threat. When Cyrus first saw the flash of red robes, he stared in disbelieving shock. Two guards followed the exit of the red-robed figure, and all four soldiers escorted the slowly walking vampire to the stand and finally the desk. It took a moment, but the short figure's head reappeared from behind the wooden structure as he hopped up onto his chair. The four soldiers took up guard behind him as he surveyed the room and the two arguing parties before him.

A child. A child dressed in formal, Chinese robes decorated with a black dragon flaring across the shimmering red fabric. He couldn't be more than twelve years old. Or he was a very _unlucky_, very _short_ teenager. What kind of monster turned a _child?_

The voice in which the vampire commanded the assembly to sit with was the light soprano of a boy who had yet to reach puberty, but the weight and power behind it left you know illusions that _this_ was a vampire to be reckoned with. Cyrus couldn't help but stare in dazed shock as he followed everyone else and sat back heavily in his seat. He watched with curious eyes as one of the assistants handed the petit vampire a sheet of paper, and the entire hall sat in silence as the _fa guan_ looked it over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Trial that follows is to determine the punishment or lack thereof of one Tara of Bast concerning the death of one Dalesh of Akkad. The defendant, Tara of Bast, will be defended by her representative against the accuser, Julannia of Akkad. Does the representative of the accuser wish to make an opening statement?" he asked, his light voice carrying easily over the silence of the room.

A vampire on the right side of the main floor, where the accusing party was sitting, stood. "Yes, honorable _fa guan_," he said with a respectful bow.

The boy inclined his head. "You may continue."

"The evidence in this Trial will prove that Tara of Bast killed Dalesh of Akkad without due cause, an act in our society that is considered _murder_."

The _fa guan_ inclined his head. "Representative of the defendant, do you wish to make a counter statement?"

A female vampire on the left stood. "Yes, honorable _fa guan_. The defendant will prove her own innocence by proving that Dalesh of Akkad is guilty of the crime she killed him for: the rape and murder of Amelia Tatrean of the Marinus clan."

Murmurs of outrage and curiosity spread across the hall like a grass fire, only silenced when the _fa guan_ hit the surface of his desk with his gavel, once. That one hit was enough to wipe out all conversation in the room, returning it to order with eerie ease.

"You wish to involve another case to win your Trial?" the _fa guan_ asked, expression blank as ever.

"Yes, honorable _fa guan_."

"Very well. The representative of the accuser will state their case first."

The female Bast vampire sat down with a respectful bow, and now that she had shifted, Cyrus caught sight of a familiar head of black hair. Tara leaned over and spoke to her representative. Cyrus wondered if they had cast a silencing charm or if they were speaking so quietly that human ears couldn't pick it up.

"Thank you, honorable _fa guan_." The representative stood and brought a pile of papers to the _fa guan_'s assistant, who then handed it to the petit vampire. After a moment, the vampire placed the papers down on the desk. Cyrus wondered what it was exactly. A list of witnesses? Or an outline of his accusations?

"You may call your first witness."

The representative nodded. "I call Thumalina de Lorme of Akkad to the witness stand."

A familiar vampire glided up to the stand with a seductive sway of the hips. Cyrus stared. It was that same vampire that approached Tara during the meeting at Shelby's Blood Bath! He mentally scoffed. Sure, call an enemy of the defendant to the stand. You'll get the truth _then_.

"Are you willing to testify under a truth spell?"

Thumalina blinked and looked to the representative of the accuser. He nodded. The female vampire turned to the _fa guan_ with a smile, but it wilted at the serious, unaffected look on his face. "Y-yes, h-honorable _fa guan_."

A second assistant came forward with a stone and placed it on the booth that surrounded the witness stand. After a complicated waving of her wand, it glowed white. "Mademoiselle de Lorme, would you please tell a truth, and then a lie to show the truth stone is functioning properly?"

She did as instructed, and the stone flashed white, then red. With a bow to the _fa guan_, the assistant moved back to her seat to the left of the stand.

The events that followed had Cyrus seething in his seat. Thumalina hadn't even been there for the actual killing of Dalesh, and hadn't heard anything, but the questions that the representative of the accuser asked about Tara and Dalesh's history and relationship implied _lie_ upon _lie_, even though Thumalina spoke nothing but truth. It was a devious skill, one that made Cyrus want to kill something.

Finally, the representative of the accuser sat down.

"Representative of the defendant, would you like to cross-examine the witness?"

The woman stood again with a nod. "Yes, honorable _fa guan_."

Walking up to Thumalina, the woman was silent for a moment as she examined the witness. Thumalina must have seen something she didn't like because she shifted nervously in her seat.

"De Lorme, would you say that you have a positive relationship with Tara of Bast?"

Thumalina's nose scrunched. "No," she finally said, reluctantly.

"And would you say that you are a friend of Dalesh of Akkad?"

"…No."

"So you have acquired most of your information about Tara and Dalesh's actions through gossip, have you not?"

"…Yes."

"Thank you. And did you hear any part of the altercation leading up to the death of Dalesh of Akkad?"

"…No, I didn't, but-"

"That's enough, thank you. It is clear that you have seen nothing of the circumstances of Dalesh's death, aside from the death itself, and you do not have a close relationship with either Tara or Dalesh. Therefore, _fa guan_, I declare her a useless witness and ask that the next be brought to the stand."

The _fa guan_ frowned. "And what do you say to the implications of failed romantic relations between Tara of Bast and Dalesh of Akkad resulting in the death of Dalesh – a crime of passion?"

It felt very odd to hear a child speak of sex – even in the most vague of euphemisms.

The representative crossed her arms over her chest. "The defendant has stated that neither she nor Dalesh ever engaged in a sexual relationship, nor a relationship of any kind, as she will elaborate when she is called to the stand."

Cyrus's hopes began to rise as more and more witnesses were called to the stand that said about the same things as Thumalina – rumors of jealousy and hatred – which Tara's representative shot down with professionalism. Biting his lip, he hoped the testimony of Dalesh himself would be enough to put this Trial in the bag.

Finally, after the fourth vampire left the stand, it seemed even the _fa guan_ was losing his endless patience. "Representative of the accuser. The last four witnesses you have brought to the stand have provided very similar information – rumors of deceit, negative relations, and jealousy. If you do not have a material witness who can provide an account of the incident or a memory to be viewed in a pensieve, then I will rest your case _for _you."

Cyrus couldn't see the man's face, but he imagined it wasn't pretty. "I would like to call the defendant's donor, or human servant, to the stand. A human who witnessed the incident first hand."

Cyrus was about to stand up when the _fa guan_ spoke. "Do you have a name for this human?"

There was an awkward silence. "He is just a human, honorable _fa guan_. I received word from BIS that they would be ensuring he did not miss the Trial."

The _fa guan_'s eyes narrowed. "I see." He didn't sound very impressed. "Very well. Would the-human-donor-of-Tara-of-Bast-who-witnessed-the-incident please come to the stand?"

Taking in a deep breath, Cyrus pulled himself to his feet. Every eye in the hall settled on him, unnervingly, as he walked down the path that separated the benches in the courtroom right down the center. Once he'd passed through the hip-high doors that opened onto the main floor, past two guards that watched him menacingly, he made his way to the stand.

The truth-stone assistant stepped forward again, waving her wand over the stone and Cyrus himself. "Please speak a truth, and then a lie."

Cyrus nervously licked his lips. Truth? Uuuh… "I have green eyes." Lie… "My hair is purple." Phew. One disaster averted. Because what if he said 'I have blond hair' and it turned red? Because originally his hair was bla-

"Please state your name for the record."

Cyrus felt his heart jump in his chest. Well, technically he had two names, but at the moment he was none other than- "Cyrus Obsidian." It didn't turn red. Thank Merlin. But why didn't it turn red? Was it because he thought of _himself_ as Cyrus Obsidian and not Harry Potter? Or was it because he'd been going under the name for a certain period of time, or-

"How do you know the defendant, Mr. Obsidian?"

Cyrus could see the man's face now, the representative of Akkad. He distinctly reminded the human of a weasel with his squinty eyes and flared nostrils.

"Tara… I'm her donor… as well as her friend." And he was, really. Well, they fought a lot, but you didn't hang out with a person as long as he had and _not_ be friends with-

"You're her friend?"

Cyrus blinked. "Yes."

"I see. And you witnessed Dalesh's death, did you not?"

"Yes."

Cyrus had no idea what the man was nodding about with such a thoughtful and smug look on his face. Was the vampire trying to psych him out?

"Will you please account the events leading up to Dalesh's murder?"

Cyrus resisted the urge to glare at him. It was _so_ not a murder. Dalesh got his just desserts. "I'm afraid my memory's not that good. I'd prefer to provide a memory for a pensieve."

"Really? From the documentation I received from ACIF when they applied for a warrant to search your mind, and were declined, you have quite the set of Occlumency shields. Why do you say you don't have the superior memory attained by all Occlumens? Have you modified the memory and prefer to show it in a pen-"

"Objection! The question is not relevant to the case, and both personal accounts and pensieve memories are admissible in Trial," Tara's representative called out as she stood from her seat.

The _fa guan_ nodded. "Objection sustained."

The Akkad representative looked annoyed, shooting a glare at the Bast representative. "Please provide the memory to the bailiff, human," he growled, stepping away from the stand as one of the assistants – bailiffs – stepped forward with a stone basin.

"Do you know how to extract a memory, Mr. Obsidian?" she asked quietly.

Cyrus shook his head. No one had ever shown him how before. He should probably get Severus to explain it to him the next chance he got.

The vampire pulled out her wand. "Would you mind if I removed it myself? No harm can come to you in the middle of a Trial."

Cyrus bit his lip. After a moment, he nodded. "What do I do?"

"Just think about the memory, from beginning to end, and don't be alarmed by the odd feeling of the memory being extracted. You may wish to close your eyes."

Taking a deep breath, he followed her instructions, closing his eyes and focusing on the memory. Where did it start? When Dalesh first approached. He felt the vampire's wand at his temple as he fell into the memory, already imagining the silvery liquid that would be pulled from his mind like a string.

_Tara chuckled. "His name is Dalesh, love. "_

"_Oh right! He's here, isn't he? I'm sure I saw him with those sluts at some point…"_

"_You should be careful who you call a slut, my dear. They might consider it an insult," the familiar voice of Dalesh came through the gentle cacophony of voices._

…

"_Of course. What did the human offer to your for your protection, Tara? Perhaps he keeps you company during those lonely nights without your Amelia."_

…

"_Oh, I'm sorry. I was merely asking what we were all thinking, I hope you understand. He's such a fine specimen of human beauty. Of course, he cannot hold a candle to the beauty of Amelia."_

"_You would do well to be silent, Dalesh, before you are silenced forever."_

_The vampire didn't seem to notice. "I was only asking out of concern for your well-being, Tara. It would be better if you spent your affections on one deserving of them, after all. Or maybe you found a better lover than Amelia? She was lacking in a certain grace. I could understand your reasoning for not being seen with her again."_

"_You know very well that she's dead, Dalesh. You should be careful insulting the dead when they're not here to defend themselves."_

_Dalesh snorted. "Really? But I have not insulted anyone, Tara. I was merely observing your fascination with this human."_

…

"_After all, such fascination really does not flatter the skill of your past lover. And oh, she was skilled." He leaned forward and whispered. "I had quite the taste of her before she disappeared forever."_

…

"_She would never sleep with the likes of you, _Akkad_."_

_Dalesh's mouth formed an 'oh'. "Wow, we're reduced to clan names now, _Bast_. And no, she didn't sleep with me." He smirked. "There wasn't a bed involved."_

…

"_They never did find the vampires that raped and killed her, Akkad. Are you implying that you were involved in some way?"_

_Dalesh adopted an innocent expression. "I have no idea what you mean, Tara. They never found any evidence."_

_  
…_

_Furious on Tara's behalf, and never quite liking Dalesh in the first place, Cyrus unleashed his magic and sent a wandless cutting curse at Dalesh's dick. The vampire dodged the attack fast enough that it only sliced his hip in half. Blood gushed onto the varnished floor._

"_How dare you attack me, you pitiful human!" Dalesh's easy confidence was destroyed as he held a hand to his hip and tried to hold the wound shut. He turned to Tara. "Your human servant attacked me! I will cut off his head!" Dalesh cried out, pulling a sword from its sheath on his back, ignoring the female vampire at his side that had gotten sliced as well. She was crying pitifully on the floor, her 'twin' casting healing spells on her._

_Tara started laughing cruelly, and it silenced every conversation in the room with finality. "You forget, Dalesh, that as I am his owner he is my responsibility to protect." Cyrus looked up to see Tara with the darkest look of sick pleasure he had ever seen on a vampire's face, the glow of her crimson eyes burning with her fury as she summoned her rune-covered sword to her hand. "Thanks for giving me every excuse to kill you, Dalesh."_

_The vampire's look of horror was still etched on his face even as his cleanly cleaved body split down the middle and fell to the floor with a spray and gurgle of blood._

After the memory had been extracted and finished projecting above the pensieve , the Akkad representative smirked viciously. "So you see, honorable _fa guan_, Tara is guilty of the crime. She killed Dalesh over a human donor. A human who _attacked_ him first, based on 'suspicion' of Dalesh having murdered another vampire." Righteous fury filled his voice, and Cyrus felt the blood start to drain from his face at the sight of so many vampires nodding their agreement. "As he is a direct descendent of the Akkad line, his life is worth more than a human's, so she_ murdered_ him in _cold blood_.

"And in light of her guilt, honorable _fa guan_, I would like to present evidence that could have warranted another Trial, but ACIF has decided to admit as evidence for _this_ Trial instead."

The young-looking vampire's eyebrows rose. "Very well. Continue, representative."

At that moment, the doors at the back of the room opened and two cloaked figures walked into the hall. Cyrus blinked before it clicked. It must be ten o'clock already if the necromancer, or rather, _necromancers_ had arrived. Everyone's attention focused on them momentarily, but the representative of the accuser just faced forward again and smirked before continuing. "Thank you, honorable _fa guan_. Tara of Bast, just last night, broke into the Akkad Mansion where Dalesh was entombed, with the help of an accomplice, and burned the body of Dalesh."

The Tribunal dissolved into chaos.

Cheng looked particularly annoyed as he banged his gavel several times to regain order. "Do you have evidence?" he finally asked.

The man nodded and took a bag from one of his assistants and then handed it to one of the bailiffs who _then_ handed it to the _fa guan_. Cyrus didn't get it. Why couldn't the representative just give it to the _fa guan_? Or was this some sort of ridiculous legal procedure he had no idea about.

"Those are the remains of Dalesh's corpse and coffin. The fire was very powerful, honorable _fa guan_. It has destroyed all possible methods of identifying the remains, but we are confident that _that_ was Dalesh's body."

Cyrus held back a snort. He was so full of shit it leaked out of his ears. By trying to cover up the evidence for Tara's trial – burning the body – they had made it impossible to know _themselves_ that the body had actually been stolen.

The vampire's smirk widened even more as he turned to address the room. "So that means that the services of the Necromancy Guild are no longer required. You may leave." The two, cloaked figures looked at each other, but before they could stand and leave, the female vampire stood.

"Objection!" she shouted angrily, glaring viciously at the Akkad representative. "As it was BIS that hired the Necromancy Guild, the representative of the accuser does not have the authority to dismiss them!"

The _fa guan _nodded. "Objection sustained. If the Necromancy Guild representatives would please remain, we will continue with the Trial. Does the representative of the accuser have any other closing statements to make?"

"Yes, honorable _fa guan_." He turned to Cyrus. "Were you the unknown accomplice that accompanied Tara of Bast to steal the body of Dalesh?"

"Objection! The human is not on trial for any crimes, and therefore that line of questioning is out of bounds."

The _fa guan_ inclind his head. "Objection sustained. Are there any other _statements_ the representative of the accuser would like to make."

The vampire didn't look pleased. "No, honorable _fa guan_. I believe I have made my case quite clear."

The _fa guan_ nodded, his childish features back to being as blank as a sheet of paper.

Cyrus felt his world start to tilt on its axel, and forcibly reminded himself that Dalesh's body was in BIS's hands… But what if he hadn't done it? A little voice in the back of his mind spoke, born of his insecurities and fear of a painful death. What if Dalesh _hadn't_ killed Amelia? Or what if BIS had fucked up? Or an ACIF inside job burned the body? If Dalesh didn't get up there and admit to everything … Cyrus was as good as dead.

"Does the representative of the defendant wish to question the witness?"

The woman stood with a shake of her head. "No, honorable _fa guan_."

"Very well. Cyrus Obsidian may leave the stand. Would you like to call forth your next witness?"

Shakily, Cyrus stood and walked out of the booth, trying to keep his legs from collapsing under him. He was done. Well, unless he got called to the stand again. Which seemed unlikely, but you never knew. Letting out a relieved breath, he left the floor and started climbing the steps up to his seat.

"If the representatives from the Necromancy Guild would please come to the floor, the defense would like to call Dalesh of Akkad to the stand."

The room exploded into noise and motion. The Akkad vampires started shouting at the Bast vampires, most of whom didn't appear to know what the hell was going on either, and the representative of the accuser looked positively _pissed_ as he verbally tore into the smug Bast representative.

Cyrus, who was only a few steps up the stairs, very awkwardly found himself in the middle of it all.

Cheng slammed the gavel into the desk, actually breaking the handle. With an extremely irritated expression on his face, he shouted, **"ORDER!" **His boyish voice was so loud it shook the hall. Most of the vampires gripped their ears in pain, and quiet groans echoed in the room as each side of the verbal war sat down to fume.

The angry expression on Cheng's face dissipated as his assistant handed him a repaired gavel. "Representative of the defendant. Explain."

Cyrus couldn't see her face from his vantage point, so he forced himself to turn around and get back to his seat. He passed the black cloaks along the way, and jolted in surprise when someone pinched his ass. Spinning around, he stared in shock at their backs. Who- what-

"Certainly, honorable _fa guan_. When Tara broke into the Akkad mansion, it wasn't to _burn_ the corpse, it was to _steal_ it. She was unaware, however, of the fact that BIS had recently negotiated with ACIF to use the body for the Trial. The fact that she has now been accused of burning this body, when she _didn't_, brings to question who did the burning? Tara is convinced that Dalesh of Akkad will provide her with necessary proof to win this Trial, so why would she burn it? I can only conclude that it was in fact the _Akkad_ clan-"

"Objection!!"

"Overruled," the _fa guan_ intoned without even glancing in the accuser's direction, eyes firmly set on Tara's representative.

"I can only conclude," she continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "that it was in fact the Akkad clan who burned the body in order to destroy the evidence, as ACIF would likely know he was guilty and take measures to protect their own."

The _fa guan_ frowned and closed his eyes for a moment. The mature, deliberating expression looked extremely out of place on the boyish features. Cyrus, who had finally arrived at his seat, sat down, glancing at Rivehn – who was reading his book, _again_ – and giving him an odd look before fixating his attention back on the floor. The eerie silence in the room was only interrupted by the soft sound of the vampire next to him flipping a page. Why had the Runes professor come to the Trial if he was just going to read?

Finally, Cheng opened his eyes, a determined set to his mouth. "I rule Tara of Bast to be freed from the possible charges of breaking into the Akkad mansion and stealing Dalesh of Akkad's body – ORDER! – in the event that providing this Trial with such evidence implicates Dalesh of Akkad in the crime he is being accused of in death. I call Dalesh of Akkad to the stand."

The necromancers, who had been barred from entering the floor by the foreboding guards, were finally allowed to pass as the Chief from earlier walked to the middle of the floor and set the coffin on it. He enlarged it with a wave of his hand. When he opened it, the audience in full view of its contents, many gasps spread through the room. Apparently some people hadn't believed the defense to be telling the truth.

When the necromancer's removed their hoods, it was Cyrus's turn to gasp. None other than Mikhail and his apprentice, Ashawyn Thalla, stood on the floor. And then it clicked – _Ashawyn had pinched his ass?_

With quiet murmurs, Mikhail ordered his apprentice to work. Wondering what they were doing, Cyrus opened his senses as he'd done to raise the zombie army and felt specifically for death magic – ignoring all the other sensations he got from the magical beings around him. He felt the familiar click as a channel connected Ashawyn's death magic to his master. Keeping a close eye on the raising, he watched in disbelief as Mikhail channeled magic _and_ death magic into the dead body at the same time, actually channeling more _magic_ into it than death magic. His brow furrowed when the necromancer finished and there seemed to be… about twice as much natural magic in it in comparison to death magic.

The _hell?_

The body came alive without a sound, stepping out of the coffin and turning to Mikhail with a blank expression on his face. He seemed very… dead. When Cyrus had raised Dalesh, he was very much… alive. So he found this new and improved version to be quite creepy.

"Move to the stand. You are to answer all questions posed by the Judge, the defense, or the prosecutor honestly and to the best of your knowledge," Mikhail ordered before moving back off the floor, dragging his tired apprentice behind him, and sitting at one of the front seats – the vampires had shifted over to create more room with distrusting looks. Did people fear necromancers or something? Cyrus hadn't come across that kind of prejudice yet, thankfully.

"Please state your name for record," the _fa guan_ commanded, an interested look on his face for the first time during the Trial. Had he never seen a zombie before or was the case finally getting interesting for him?

"Dalesh of Akkad," the zombie intoned in a dull voice, flat without inflexion.

"Representative of the defendant, you have the floor."

"Thank you, honorable _fa guan_. Dalesh of Akkad." When she paused dramatically, Cyrus wanted to AK her. "Did you rape and kill Amelia Tatrean of the Marinus clan?"

"Yes."

The room fell absolutely dead silent.

"Did you have help in killing and raping Amelia Tatrean?"

"Yes."

"Objection! This has nothing to do with the case at hand!" the Akkad representative shouted as he stood.

"Objection!" the female representative shouted, glaring over at him. "I wish to invoke the clause of killing with just cause to prove that Tara of Bast is not culpable of any crime."

The _fa guan_'s eyebrows rose. He looked between the two vampires. "Overruled."

The Bast representative continued. "Who helped you? Give names and clans."

"Objection!"

"Overruled."

"Frascela Haintas of the Akkad clan, Noscala Haintas of the Akkad clan, and Michel Rud of the Bast clan."

The _fa guan _barked something out angrily – in Chinese – at one of the guards at his back, and the vampire disappeared into the shadows with a bow. When it appeared Tara's representative was waiting for Cheng, the _fa guan_ motioned her to continue.

"How did each of these people help you?"

"All three of us raped her, but Rud refused to do the killing himself. He left before we snuffed her."

Tara's representative continued after a moment of silence, "Do you know, or can you _guess_, why Michel Rud left?"

"Rud was a rat. He was the one who got us all together, planned the entire thing, but he wouldn't kill her himself."

"Do you know why he wanted to rape and kill Amelia Tatrean?"

"He wanted to date her. And then he found out she was gay when she got engaged to Tara. He's quite the homophobe. So it was probably both his hate of homosexuals and the fact that she wouldn't date him that made him want to kill her."

"What were _your_ motivations for raping and killing her?"

"She was hot, and it was perfect revenge for Tara refusing to ever date me. I've been wanting a piece of her ass for-"

"That's enough, thank you." The zombie fell silent. "When you were alive, did you enjoy killing people?"

"That was okay."

"Did you enjoy raping people?"

"Y-"

"Objection! Honorable _fa guan_, this line of questioning has nothing to do with the case at hand!"

The _fa guan_ looked extremely irritated, and actually bared his fangs at the man. "Representative of the accuser," he intoned, magic crackling in the air around him. "A member of your clan has raped and killed another vampire – one of the highest offenses that can be committed among our kind. You will cease and desist, or I will have you restrained and gagged for your insubordination in what is _my_ Tribunal this day."

The man trembled with anger for a moment before sitting down stiffly.

Tara's representative bowed to the _fa guan_ before turning back to Dalesh. "How many people did you rape while you were alive?"

The zombie tilted his head to the side in thought for a moment. "I lost count."

"So this was a common thing for you. Raping people."

"Yes."

"What did you do after you raped them? Kill them? Wipe their memories?"

"I killed some of them, wiped the memories of others… but it was always more amusing to see the poor little humans flinching away from me in the hallways. They knew they couldn't do anything about it. Most of them were just slaves, though I raped a couple students at Shikaan to. The thrill of not knowing whether they'd ever become powerful enough to get revenge on me was exhilarating."

Cyrus felt sick to his stomach. Closing his eyes, he reached into one of his endless bags for a bottle of water – he had some left over from the provisions he'd packed yesterday before the stake out. He'd finished his last protein bar that morning, though, so it did little to fill his stomach. He really hoped this trial finished before lunch. It was mid-morning already. Twisting off the muggle cap, he sipped at it and sighed when the nausea began to ease. Dalesh… Dalesh had been a fucking _raping_ _serial killer_. He had _enjoyed_ what he did to those… people. Humans… women? Men? Did it even matter to him? Cyrus was suddenly very glad that Tara had killed Dalesh. What if _Cyrus_ had become the crazy bastard's next victim?

"Why did you approach Tara during the student meeting at Shelby's Blood Bath and taunt her about killing Amelia?"

"It was fun, watching her fall apart after Amelia's death. But then she started pulling herself back together. That human, her donor, didn't help, either. She was never very social at the student meetings. I don't know why if it was because she just didn't care or she was depressed. But a while after she met that little human, she started moving on… So I rubbed her nose in it. To see the look on her face. And it was delicious."

It was very odd hearing words that held character, but a _voice_ that held none. He could almost imagine the way Dalesh would have actually said it, if he were alive, but this parody spoke words of passion and anger in a dead monotone.

"So you held nothing but… lust and contempt for Tara?"

"Yes."

Tara's representative turned to Cheng. "That's all, honorable _fa guan_."

"Would the representative of the accuser like to cross-examine the witness?"

The man was silent for a moment, before finally saying, "No, honorable _fa guan_."

"Would the defense like to bring another witness to the stand?"

"No, honorable _fa guan_."

"Would the representative of the accuser like to make a closing argument?"

The man on the right side spoke with Julannia of Akkad for a moment in the privacy of a silencing ward before standing. "Honorable _fa guan_," he began. "The accuser would like to address the fact Dalesh, a direct descendant of Akkad was killed by a vampire with Bast blood so diluted she is barely a descendant, _after _having been attacked by a human for inflammatory comments. We request that both Tara of Bast and the human, Cyrus Obsidian, be executed for killing one of such noble blood."

"Noted. Would the defense like to make a closing statement?"

Tara and her representative, who had been speaking to each other during the accuser's statement, broke apart and the representative stood. "The defense will address the fact that Tara was completely within her rights to execute Dalesh for the rape and murder of her bonded and fiancée, as allowed by the 'Killing with Just Cause' clause, a raping and killing that not only affected Tara on a traumatizing, personal level, but also had diplomatic consequences. The bonding of Tara of Bast and Amelia Tatrean of the Marinus clan was supposed to cement ties of friendship and truce between the two great clans Bast, and Marinus, but instead created conflict and distrust. As Dalesh of Akkad, who already admitted to raping and killing Amelia Tatrean, is already dead, the defense demands the lives of the other three people involved in this atrocious act. We would also like it enforced that the Akkad clan may not get revenge on Tara of Bast or Cyrus Obsidian for events related to Dalesh's death, and that they may not hire, bribe, black-mail, or otherwise coerce or ask a party outside of their clan to do the same."

"Anything else?" Cheng asked. He waited a beat before hitting his gavel. "As _fa guan_ for this Trial, I rule in favor of the defense, and that all demands made _by_ the defense be granted. The warriors of the Xie Long Zu are currently retrieving the guilty parties involved. I also strongly suggest that ACIF refrain from destroying evidence in the future, else it will be taken up with the Supreme Vampire Courts. Again. I rule this Trial closed." He hopped off his chair and was escorted from the room by his entourage, his assistants staying behind and working furiously at the paperwork.

Tara jumped up and hugged her representative. Cyrus stayed where he was for a few moments as one by one, most of the vampires left the Tribunal. Some stayed and talked softly to one another, probably wanting to witness whatever Tara did to the other vampires involved. Glancing over at Rivehn, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of the vampire _still_ reading his book. A few moments later, the vampire closed it with a quiet snap, turning his attention to Cyrus. "It appears events have turned in your favor. You may wish to congratulate Tara," he said with a blank expression before falling through the shadow of the bench.

Blinking in surprise, Cyrus stared at the spot where his Runes professor used to be for a moment before forcing himself to get to his feet and navigate the gossiping vampires to get to the floor. No one stopped him on the way, thankfully, and the guards let him pass to go see Tara – though that might have had something to do with the fact that the _fa guan_ had retreated to the back room. He tried to ignore the eyes of Ashawyn watching him as Mikhail and the Chief Investigator of Bast spoke in soft voices. Walking a wide circle around the angry Julannia, he glanced curiously at Dalesh (her son?) as the body was placed back in the coffin.

"Cyrus!" Tara called out with a wide grin, breaking his fixation on the dead body. "How's it shakin'? You were great up there, by the way. Good idea not lettin' him run you into a corner! It's easier for the accuser to make a person look bad when the witness tries to recall what happened – but a memory's just a memory. No way to fuck that up."

The woman standing next to Tara sighed and crossed her arms. "Tara, I do wish you would cease that plebeian muggle speak in my presence. You know it… vexes me."

Tara glared at her representative. "Aunt, _anything_ I do embarrasses you, most times. I can't help it if my speech relaxes because I no longer have a _death sentence_ hanging over my head. Let me have a little fun! I'm going to live to see the sunset.

The representative – Tara's _aunt,_ apparently – scoffed quietly. "Very well. I will over look it this once. Now, will you introduce me to the human who defended your honor so valiantly in that memory? Or must _I_."

Tara grinned. "Chill out, Aunt Kephri." The look on her face, Cyrus had to admit, was quite amusing. And Tara seemed to agree, if the teasing glint in her red eyes was any indication. "This is Cyrus Obsidian. My donor. Cyrus, this is my aunt, Lady Kephri of Bast."

Cyrus stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you," he said with a smile. She stared down at the proffered limb in surprise for a moment before gripping it with a vicious grin.

"A pleasure as well, Mr. Obsidian. Though I must ask – what are your intentions concerning Tara?"

Tara's cheeks turned red. "Aunt!"

The woman shrugged, releasing Cyrus's hand. "I have the right to ask. Does he wish to be your human servant? Or perhaps a lover?"

Cyrus let out an amused puff of air. "Er, no, Lady Kephri. We're just friends. I give her blood and let her use my library, and she stops the other vampires in Shikaan from snacking on me."

Kephri's eyebrows rose slowly, surprised, and she looked at Tara for a moment in disbelief. Tara just grinned with a shrug. When the women turned her eyes back to Cyrus, there was an amused light shining in their maroon depths. "Mr. Obsidian, in vampire culture, there is no such thing as _just friends_. When you declared yourself a friend of Tara's before the entire assembly of vampires, you informed everyone of where your allegiance lies."

"Oh," was the only thing he could think of to say to _that_. He wasn't even sure what 'allegiance' meant to a vampire. He really needed an instruction manual. "What do you mean by allegiance?"

Tara laughed. "Don't mind him, Aunt. He grew up in Human Realm."

Her eyebrows rose. "Truly? He is rather powerful for a purebred human. Are you certain he is not part demon or fae some generations back?"

Tara shrugged. "I don't know, Aunt. There are no records of an 'Obsidian' family."

"Hmm." She looked him over with critical eyes, making the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end. "If you were attracted to men, he would have made a lovely bonded for you, Tara." The vampire grunted noncommittally and got an irritated, warning glare from her aunt. "Loyal, powerful… unafraid of the vampires attempting to intimidate him. From what you told me, he acted… competently, with that _errand_ you had to run."

"Yeah, I guess. Speaking of which…" Tara cast a silencing ward around them and stepped in close. "How _did_ you get out, Cyrus?"

The human blinked. "To be honest, Tara, I have no clue. One minute I was there, the next I wasn't."

Both of her eyebrows rose, and she glanced at her aunt who was watching them with an annoyed expression. With some surprise, Cyrus realized Tara must have left her outside the ward. "You must have _some_ idea. The wards weren't destroyed, so you didn't use that 'ability' of yours. How did you get out? Not that I don't appreciate you… well. You know."

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "You're welcome, Tara. And I'm serious, I have no idea. I've disapparated accidentally before, and that wasn't it, so I have no clue how the hell I got out of there. Can we just drop it? Before your aunt has a conniption?"

Kephri, who had crossed her arms and was tapping her manicured fingers on her arm, stared at Tara with a very intense set of eyes. Under that glare, Tara took the silencing ward down with a sheepish half-smile. Kephri didn't look impressed.

Before she could tear into Tara for perceived wrongs, a bunch of the Chinese warriors started coming out of the shadows of a nearby wall, bringing three bound and silenced bodies with them. Two of them Cyrus actually recognized, and he stared in shock at the sight of the two blond sluts that used to hang off Dalesh's arms before he got sliced in two.

Cyrus leaned closer to Tara and whispered, "So, who exactly are these… soldiers?" he asked curiously. "The Bast, er, officer who dropped me off wasn't exactly a fountain of information."

Tara's eyes were focused solely on the warriors' captives, even as she answered his question. "They're part of the Xie Long Zu, the Blood Dragon clan. You know how there's the Bast and Akkad? They're one of the five great vampire clans in Other Ream."

Cyrus blinked. "Oh. And a _fa guan_? Is he like a judge or something?"

"_Fa_ _guan_ is Chinese for Judge. The 'soldiers', as you called them, are the warriors of the clan – kind of like our law enforcement. They ensure the Trial goes smoothly and bring in any witnesses, criminals, or other people trying to skip out. _These_ three, as ruled by the _fa guan_, are mine now for their crimes against Amelia, as I was her bonded."

Cyrus's mouth formed into a small 'o'. "Thanks," he murmured, watching with morbid curiosity as the struggling vampires were forced to their knees in a line in front of Tara.

"Michel Rud, Frascela Haintas, Noscala Haintas," one of the Chinese vampires intoned, his rather heavy accent butchering what probably should have been a French accent on Rud's name.

Tara stepped forward, sneering down at them. First, she turned to the twin blonds. "So, what did _you_ two have against Amelia?" she asked through gritted teeth.

The silencing charm apparently had been removed, because one hissed while the other jeered, "Like we'd tell you, whore."

Cyrus didn't even see the movement of Tara's hand as she bitch slapped the one who had spoken. "It's a simple question, you cunt. Did you have anything against Amelia, or do you just enjoy a good fuck and kill?"

A quick glance at the aunt told Cyrus all he needed to know about what Kephri thought of Tara's language.

The blond just smirked, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth as a result of the slap. "Go fuck yourself."

Tara cast a flesh-melting curse and watched with stony eyes as she screamed and writhed and eventually just fell over, dead, the muscles and tissues melting off her frame and onto the stone floor, soon followed by the bones themselves. Tara turned to the next blond, who watched her twin die angrily. "How about you?"

The vampire just spat at Tara's feet with a sneer. Tara sank her hand into the vampire's chest and watched her expression as she slowly ripped out the heart. Cyrus gagged at the cloying scent of blood. He'd killed people before, watched others kill… but the sheer brutality and cold blooded anger that drove Tara was a sight to behold, and he could feel the eyes of the vampires who had remained behind watching eagerly. What was it with vampires and bloodshed?

After Tara squeezed the leftover blood from the muscle, she dropped it at the feet of body as it collapsed into the remains of what used to be her sister. Tara stepped slowly up to Rud, left hand dripping blood, right hand wielding her wand. "So, Rud. You hate gay people, huh? I never would have expected that from you. You were so good at hiding it – dancing with everyone at the nobles' parties, even other men…" She leaned in close and flicked his nose with her bloody hand. He glared at her with eyes filled with hate and disgust. The blond twins had just been angry and spiteful, but Rud… Hate poured off him in waves; the air was thick with it.

"Being _involved_ with people of the same sex is disgusting. You should all be killed for your unnatural _disease_."

Tara's eyebrows rose. "Really now. You must be a turned vampire. No born vampire would hold such infantile illusions of homosexuality. Contrary to what some muggles think, simpleton, being gay is not a disease, and you can't _catch_ it. I'm surprised you've survived so long as a vampire with that kind of attitude." She grinned viciously. "I'm going to enjoy beating it out of you."

He sneered. "You can burn my flesh or rip out my heart, but I will always believe that Amelia got everything she deserved. And you deserve _worse_."

She kicked him in the balls and watched him keel over with a pitiful whimper. "Aaah, that's too bad for you, because I wasn't going to do either. You see, I have this friend, and I owe him a favor, so I'm going to let him tear your magical core out of your body and use it in his experiments. _Then_ I'm going to sell you to a brothel for muggle vampires that specializes in homosexual clientele." She leaned in close to his face. "They'll train you to suck cock and love it," she taunted, laughing cynically and dodging out of the way when he tried to bite at her with his fangs.

Cyrus shifted nervously on his feet. He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of there being brothels of slaves in Other Realm. A glance at Kephri told him – if the smug look on her face was any indication – that she approved of the punishment.

As the warriors held the struggling vampire in place, Tara brought a knife to her hand and cut the tips of two of her fingers. Cyrus watched, fascinated, as she ripped off Rud's shirt and started drawing symbols all over his chest. He could feel her infusing magic into the markings at random intervals, and it intrigued him. Was this another aspect of that 'blood magic' she'd used to get them inside the Akkad mansion?

Tara cut her fingers many times before she finished, as vampires had rather extensive regeneration capabilities. When she finally finished the last markings, placed on the vampire's forehead, Cyrus watched as a jolt of magic pushed into the blood had Rud's eyes rolling up in the back of his head as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

"Aunt? Would you mind throwing him in the dungeons at the manor? Cyrus might still have some classes he can make, and I have some things that I have to look up in the library for my masters. I'll pick him up later tonight to take him to my… friend."

Kephri nodded and grabbed him by his hair. "I'll see you later tonight, then. Don't work yourself too hard." She stepped into Cyrus's shadow and disappeared, surprising the human enough to take a step back.

Tara bowed to the Chinese warriors, and they bowed back, disposing of the remains of the corpses before dissolving into thin air like wisps of smoke. It was the oddest form of transportation Cyrus had ever seen. When Tara turned to him with a half-hearted smile, he inclined his head, hoping he could convey to her through eye contact his support. She had gotten revenge for Amelia's death, but now she had to come to terms with it all over again.

She didn't try to hug him, thankfully, because that would have just been awkward, but she did clap him on the shoulder. "It's almost lunch. You must be hungry. Want to go back to Shikaan now?"

Cyrus nodded. "I had a few more questions to ask, if you don't mind."

Tara glanced at the remaining vampires milling about, watching the two out of the corner of their eyes. The Akkad representative and Julannia had left ages ago, along with the Chief Investigator. Mikhail and Ashawyn had also disappeared.

"After I take us to Shikaan," she said, pulling him over to the wall and shadow walking them through it.

They came out into a hallway with a few students walking past, probably on their way to lunch. Tara stretched, looking around at the familiar black marble walls with a happy grin. "It's nice knowing I'll be seeing this place for a while longer."

Cyrus snorted. "I couldn't agree more."

"So, you had some questions?" she asked a moment later, leaning up against the wall.

He nodded. "What's this 'allegiance' thing? What's that mean?"

"Eh… It's a little complicated. Suffice to say… Friendship isn't just two people who get along in vampire culture. Those are acquaintances or allies. Calling yourself a _friend_ to another vampire basically boils down to… You will kill for me, and I will kill for you. And now everyone knows it."

Cyrus raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Riiight. Er, well, next question. The whole system seemed rather muggle. Why is that?"

Tara shrugged. "It's only been in the last thousand years that the vampire clans came to a truce. When the muggles came up with a system that worked pretty well to ensure as much justice as can be made in a culture of backstabbing magical beings, vampires borrowed many of their ideas. Any other questions?"

"Yeah… why didn't you tell me about the Trial? And how come we went and stole Dalesh's body when BIS was getting it for the Trial anyway."

Tara licked her lips. "Well, for one thing, I didn't _know _that BIS was gettin' the body. Though it's probably a good thing we stole it anyway, with how quickly they torched the conjuration and put the blame on me. And second, I didn't tell you about the Trial because I didn't want to worry you. I was freakin' out enough about everythin' without havin' to worry about you going and doing somethin' stupid if ya found out you had to testify."

Cyrus gave her a look. "Is your opinion of me really that low?"

She stared at him with an indecipherable expression for a moment before smiling softly, warmth making her eyes brighten from maroon to cherry red. "Not anymore, no," she said in a teasing voice, amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes.

The human snorted. "Jee, thanks. I feel so appreciated."

Tara just laughed. "Go eat some lunch. I can hear your stomach growling from here."

Cyrus touched his stomach defensively. "Well sorry for having a digestive system," he said, sticking out his tongue. The vampire just grinned and laughed again.

"I'll see ya 'round, Cy. An' I'll be poppin' in to check out that library o' yours again! You haven't got rid of me yet."

The human raised an eyebrow. "I'm ecstatic. I can't wait," he said flatly, watching her walk away with a bounce in her step. He hadn't seen her this chipper in… well, a long while. It was kind of creepy to behold, actually.

Shrugging to himself, he headed towards his rooms, wanting to shove something in his mouth and have a quick shower before he had to run off to Wandless Magic class. However, when he finally arrived in the wing where his rooms were located, he was completely unprepared for the relaxed frame leaning in his doorway. He stood there, staring like an idiot at the familiar, confident smile of Ashawyn as the apprentice caught sight of him and pushed himself off the frame.

"Hey Cyrus! I was hoping you'd be back from that trial soon. I have to say, I didn't expect to see you there. How did you get involved in a vampire homicide, anyway?" he asked with a genuine, 'nice-guy' smile on his face.

Cyrus blinked, slowly, as if expecting the man to be a hallucination. Nope, still there. "And I didn't expect to see you there, either," he finally managed to say. "You pinched my ass." Whoops, that wasn't supposed to come out…

Ashawyn ran a sheepish hand through his hair with a rueful grin. "I couldn't help it. It's so cute, it was just begging me to do it."

Cyrus stared at him in incomprehension. "Riiight. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to _eat_ something, as I haven't had a proper meal for like twelve hours. So can you please get out of my doorway?"

The blue-eyed man stepped aside, again with that genuine, straight-to-the-eyes smile. "Sure."

But after Cyrus had stepped through his doorway, the apprentice didn't _leave_. In fact, he _followed_ Cyrus into his rooms. "Nice place you got here. I've never been to Shikaan as a student. This is pretty neat."

Beginning to lose his patience, but hunger taking precedence, Cyrus stalked to his kitchen and yanked open the cold box door. Reaching inside, he pulled out some leftover pasta that he'd made a few nights ago and heated it with a wave of his hand. Conjuring a fork – he hadn't bothered to buy silverware – he shoved some of the pasta into his mouth and glared at Ashawyn over his plate. When he'd stuffed enough into his stomach that it wasn't digesting itself anymore, he swallowed and put the plate down on the little table by his bookshelf.

"What are you doing here, Ashawyn?" he finally asked, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. He didn't like having the guy in his room – _uninvited._

Ashawyn smiled. "Oh, you didn't hear? Yankovich contracted Mikhail to take over his classes on Mondays and Fridays for the next couple months or so. Mikhail's milking more out of him than the job's really worth, but Yankovich must be doing quite the interesting project to actually be willing to pay it. They're both in the Headmistress's office right now finalizing things. I asked him where your rooms were, and he was nice enough to tell me." He blinked innocently. "Did he never tell your class?"

Cyrus felt his world go for a little spin. "Er, no, he didn't." Yankovich hadn't said _anything_ about it yesterday. And where the hell did the demon get off telling people where his _rooms_ were? What if he hadn't wanted Ashawyn to know?! Which was kind of the case, as it were… He resisted the urge to mumble angrily to himself.

Ashawyn tilted his head to the side. "Oh. Well, that's too bad."

Cyrus swallowed his anger. "Okay, I'm following you on why Mikhail's here, but why are _you_ here."

Ashawyn took a step forward. "Well, I'm his apprentice, so I go where he goes."

The human was beginning to get frustrated. "No," he interrupted angrily, "why are you _here_, in my _room?_"

Ashawyn took another step forward, and suddenly Cyrus found himself with very little room to maneuver. Before he could step around the older man, two arms had barricaded him on either side. Eyes wide and breath coming in quick pants, he stared in incomprehension into Ashawyn's ice blue eyes as they got closer and closer. Phantom fingers began to trail up and down his chest, and nausea sent his stomach churning uneasily.

"You have no idea," Ashawyn said softly, staring at Cyrus with wonder in his eyes, "of exactly how enthralling you are… do you?" Before Cyrus could say a word, he found a soft set of lips capturing his own in a kiss. Panic had his nerves and magic on fire under his skin, but when Ashawyn didn't try to touch him, he found himself slowly beginning to calm down, and nausea turned to fluttering butterflies in his stomach as that mouth gently massaged his lips before pulling away with a parting lick.

"Cyrus? Are you in here? I have been looking for you all day and-" Yalmireth's voice cut off abruptly as he opened the door all the way.

Cyrus glanced over at the demon, cheeks flushing at exactly _what_ Yalmireth just walked in on. Pushing Ashawyn away, he fidgeted nervously as he tried to decipher the expression on Yalmireth's face. He glared at Ashawyn with cold, steel-gray eyes, jaw tight and mouth pressed into a line, and when his gaze turned to Cyrus it was very neutral.

"I will come back later," he bit out, almost slamming the door behind him.

Cyrus winced at the loud noise, but didn't really understand what had Yalmireth so angry. He was just kissing somebody. And Yalmireth didn't really come across as homophobic… He was a demon, for crying out loud.

"Who was that? A friend?" Ashawyn asked, moving closer again and resting his hands on Cyrus's hips.

The human pushed him away again and maneuvered away from the bookshelf into the open space of the room where he could escape more easily. "Yes. He's a friend," he grit out, eyes flashing between the door and the 'threat' in front of him.

Ashawyn raised an eyebrow and held his hands out at his sides. "What's wrong? I thought I read you right. You like men, don't you?"

Cyrus felt blood rushing to his face. "Well, yeah, I mean, I think, I mean, I-"

Ashawyn smiled, amused. "Well, I'd say you like men, if you need confirmation. I can smell your arousal."

He felt like he was going to faint from too much oxygen when the blood in his body rushed to his face. He must look like a cherry, his face was so hot. "I- what- how?"

Ashawyn laughed, rolling back on the heels of his feet. "I'm an ice fae, Cyrus. Like most non-humans, we have very sensitive noses. Fae are particularly sensitive to pheromones. We are very… sexual beings."

The human blinked. "That's… er… nice."

The fae tilted his head curiously to the side, shoulder-length, wavy hair curling around his face. "Why did you flinch like that? Normally people aren't so disgusted the first time I kiss them." He smiled ruefully.

Cyrus nervously licked his lips. "I- I really don't feel comfortable talking about… well, this. With you. _And_ I don't feel comfortable with you just coming barging into my room like this, and, and ambushing me in front of my rooms!" he continued, his voice getting louder as he got on a roll. "I've had a shitty couple of days and the last thing I need is someone harassing me and _kissing me_ and asking questions and-"

A finger landed on his lips, and he froze in surprise, eyes blinking up at the fae that had just suddenly _moved_ and now stood in front of him.

"I get it," Ashawyn said quietly, reluctantly removing his finger. "I'm sorry for ambushing you. And entering your rooms uninvited. And… well, I'm sorry you perceived it as harassment." He smiled mischievously. "But I'm not apologizing for kissing you."

Cyrus floundered. "W-what- why- you are so confusing!" he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why the hell did you kiss me at all?"

The fae stared at him for a moment before he started laughing. Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry for laughing," Ashawyn said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "But you are just too cute! 'Why did you kiss me'." He snorted again with laughter. "You really do have no clue." He leaned closer, eyes darkening with something Cyrus was beginning to associate with desire. "I find you very _attractive_, Cyrus Obsidian," he murmured, 'attractive' rolling off his lips like an exotic word, sending a burst of shivers up the human's spine. "And I want to… pursue you, lets just say."

Two eyebrows rose in surprise. " 'Pursue me'? As in… like, _dating_ and stuff?"

Ashawyn smiled. "Yes. So, will you consider it?"

Cyrus floundered again. "I- well- I don't know if I can-"

A set of lips landed on his own, and they must of have been demonic – or maybe fae could sexify their lips or something – because Cyrus couldn't control the soft moan that escaped him at the heat of pleasure that spread from the touch. By the time the fae released him, he must have looked thoroughly debauched, because he _felt_ debauched. And it was only a kiss! And a kiss from someone he didn't even know that well!

"What do you say now?" Ashawyn asked, running the backs of his fingers down Cyrus's cheek, but other than that not touching him.

The human swallowed nervously, staring up into those icy blue eyes. "I… well… I've… I've never done… well, anything like this before."

The fae's eyes sparkled. Maybe they had some sort of glamour that sexified them and lured in their prey or something. "Well," he said softly, caressing Cyrus's cheek again. The human felt as if his senses were overloading with _Ashawyn_. It must be some sort of faerie hormones or something. What had the fae called it? Pheromones? "It starts with a date. A few kisses. And as we get to know each other… things _progress_."

Naughty images burst behind Cyrus's eyelids at the way _sex_ oozed from that word, and the human felt himself blushing down to his neck. "R-really," he croaked, swallowing nervously, his crazy hormonal mind starting to pick apart the taller man's shirt and imagine what he looked like _underneath _it.

Ashawyn smiled, amused. "Really. What do you say? Dinner tonight? I know a very nice restaurant in sector three. They make really good pasta, and of all the restaurants I go to they always have the best desserts. Fresh fruit, home made ice cream… the works."

"Uuuh…" he felt like he was drowning as he stared up into those blue eyes. What would it hurt? It was only a date. "S-sure, I guess."

Ashawyn grinned brightly. "Perfect! I'll pick you up at seven."

"Seven?" Cyrus thought about it for a second after kick-starting his brain again. Yankovich had said they had no more private lessons together until he could animate a dead fly, right? So seven should be alright. "O-okay."

The fae smiled and leaned down to quickly peck his cheek. "Great. I'll pick you up here, then?"

The human nodded, dazed.

"I'll see you tonight, Cyrus," he said before walking over to the door with a small wave and a bright grin. The human could only wave dazedly as the fae left his rooms.

Turning to his plate of pasta, he blinked, imagining all the _nice_ pasta he would be eating in around seven hours. And desserts. Shrugging, he returned to stuffing his face and tried not to think of the consequences of what he had just accepted, still not quite believing exactly _what_ had just happened.

His fingers unconsciously reached up and touched his still-tingling lips.

-_Toki Mirage-_

Wow. Talk about the epic chapter to out-epic all previous chapters. (whistles)

_**Bad News**_, lovelies: School is starting soon. This means there may not be another update until Xmas holidays. (nods sadly) Yes. Unfortunately life gets in the way. Hopefully the 15,800 words of awesomeness you just read cheered you up. :) And the ending of the chapter. (evil giggle)

Lils – Michel Rud is a salute to you! (evil grin) Three guesses. First two don't count.

_I'd also like to give credit to the site 'Nineteenth Judicial Circuit' at the following link where I found a mock-script that helped me in writing my own trial. :P No, people, I'm not that familiar with the legal system. I only took Law in high school. And watch TV. Heheh. Though I might have a lawyer friend in a few years!_

_http:// www. 19thcircuitcourt. state. il. us/ bkshelf/ resource/ mt_lunch. htm_

_**CHALLENGE:**_

Funny story. On the chat we have going, I made up a scavenger hunt. The only item on the list that pertains to Harry Potter, however, cannot be found: "HP fic where Harry pretends to be a huggable bitch, but during the night he terrorizes the Underground of Magical Britain."

'Terrorize' of course can be taken in multiple ways. As can 'bitch'. (grins) I hope someone takes the challenge! Either to find it or to write it. And if you do, plz PM me when you post it/locate it.

_~Happy birthday to meeeeeee, happy birthday to meeeeeee, happy biiiirthday to meeeeeee. Happy birthday to me~ (eats her ice cream cake)_

Thanks for reading!

PS – For those of you who have a problem with Cyrus/non-human, please check the Forum BS thread for clarification in regards to the changing of the pairing from vampire to non-human. Thank you.


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Date

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Eighteen:

_oOo_

As the afternoon wore on, Cyrus was beginning to feel less and less enthusiastic about his 'date' with Ashawyn. The tingling in his lips and the warmth in his body had faded as he pulled his head out of the apprentice-induced clouds and went to Wandless Magic class. He still didn't really understand _why_ he had said yes, either.

And now Yalmireth was ignoring him.

"Mr. Obsidian? Are you paying attention?"

Cyrus's head snapped up to look at Professor Catchpool from where he stood in the corner, 'practicing' casting charms at one of the targets in the large classroom. "Huh?"

The professor crossed her arms under her rather voluptuous breasts, manicured nails tapping impatiently against her arm. She raised a blond eyebrow as his face flushed in embarrassment. "My point exactly. Normally by now you have mastered the spells of the day. I am going to have to give you a bad mark for this period if you fail to focus, Mr. Obsidian."

Cyrus bit his lip. It wasn't exactly like he could tell her that he was freaking out because he had a date. A date with a _boy_. A date with an _ice fae_ who had kissed him last night and thrown a whole new hiccough into his already fucked up life. He wasn't even sure he wanted a man touching him after the whole… Macnair… thing… And he'd finally found out he wasn't going to be executed by vampires, too! And just because he'd come to accept the fact that he didn't find Catchpool's assets appealing, or any other girl's for that matter, didn't mean he was ready to jump on the boat of… of... well… _gay_.

The Dursleys had never had anything good to say about homosexuals. So, as a child trying to find love in a home that held nothing but hatred for him, he'd dismissed the idea that he could ever find his own sex attractive. He'd kept his eyes on girls, like he was supposed to, and never let himself watch the other boys he changed with after a Quidditch match. It had served him well, even after the terrible Cho Chang kiss, and he hadn't questioned the fact that looking at the wizarding version of PlayBoy that Seamus always brought to Hogwarts didn't make him… well, feel anything. Instead, he's shoved it out of his mind. He'd had other problems, after all.

And then he came to Shikaan – where it seemed half the population was gay, bisexual, or just plain open minded. Maybe being straight was a human thing? But it hadn't been until his first _real_ taste of a vampire bite that he'd started having doubts. The first time Rivehn bit him. His body had been tortured by pleasure he'd never experienced in his life before he creamed his pants… but he'd brushed it off as the aphrodisiac that all vampires possessed, pushing thoughts of homosexuality out of his mind again. But then he'd witnessed the Kiss; Rivehn and Yankovich all but having straight out _sex_ right in front of him, and all he'd been able to do was stare in shock and shift himself into a more comfortable position in his pants before he – completely mortified – came in his pants along with his two _professors_, the entire event super charged by the magic in the air and his unfortunate case of magic sensitivity.

He'd been pushed over the edge of denial that day, but he still hadn't accepted the fact that he was… well. Gay. And it had never entered his consciousness that he would ever do anything about it. He wasn't attracted to any boys… well, besides looking at them and thinking they were hot, that was. Okay, he was attracted to some people, but he didn't have a _crush_ on anyone, so he'd pushed his new sexual status out of his mind. Again.

But then Ashawyn… the stupid ice fae who just came barging into his room with that stupid endearing smile and sensual sway to his hips and kissable lips and now Cyrus had a fucking _date_ that he didn't even know why he agreed to and-

"Mr. Obsidian?"

The human snapped out of it to find that he had set his target on fire and quickly put it out with a wave of his hand. He let out a sigh and couldn't meet the eyes of one of his strictest teachers. "I'm sorry, Professor," he said quietly, repairing the charred target with another wave of his hand.

"I understand that all students have things that distract them, Mr. Obsidian, but I also expect them to leave such disturbances on the other side of my classroom door. Can I help you with whatever it is? Or do you need to leave my class and get a zero for today."

Cyrus winced. Eek. Catchpool didn't kick you out of her class unless you were being generally disruptive, so for her to threaten to… well, he needed to come up with something to cover his ass. He'd already missed his other classes for today. He'd rather not miss another. Wandless Magic was all about participation and progress, after all, not papers, projects or assignments.

"What's magic sensitivity?" he blurted out.

Catchpool tilted her head quizzically to the side, and already Cyrus could feel the gears in her brain turning. Analyzing. Calculating. Cyrus had a hunch she was up there with Hermione in the area of sheer brainpower, but normally she didn't turn that 'what kind of bug are you' look on her students. She saved it for her other projects.

He frowned when she adjusted the glasses on her face, and could feel the magic when it activated on the lenses. When her eyebrows rose in surprise, as she looked him up and down, he started to fidget. "What?" he asked defensively, kind of creeped out.

The professor pushed some of her straight hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. "I hadn't realized you were a magic sensitive. No wonder you do so well in my class."

Cyrus gaped. "I never said I was!" he exclaimed, looking around to see if hey had drawn any other students' attention.

She raised a 'no, really?' eyebrow. "You need not worry of the other students learning your secret, Mr. Obsidian. Everything I learn with the use of these lenses, specially designed and crafted for my profession, I do not share with the general public. So, what is it that you wish to know?"

The human blinked. Wait a minute. Maybe… maybe he could salvage this. There was a disgusting lack of information on magic sensitives in the library. And if it _was_ there somewhere, he hadn't found it. "Everything?"

She raised an eyebrow and shifted on her hips, arms still crossed under her… very large assets. "Every person is magic sensitive. It is also be referred to by some as the 'sixth sense'. What makes society refer to you as magic sensitive, however, is when your ability to sense the movement of magic is far above normal. Some are merely able to tell when a spell is about to make contact. Others are capable of telling you how many magical individuals are in a room and what species they are. It all depends on your ability and how you develop it."

Cyrus's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. "Huh." He licked his lips in thought. "How… how do you go about… well, figuring out how it works?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "Practice. And meditation. I am sure you have noticed during your Animagus class with my sister that you can 'feel' things during meditation sessions?"

Cyrus nodded, wincing at the reminder of Animagus class. He'd been doing well in it for the first few months, but now he was stuck in a rut. One, he was easily distracted, and two, almost everyone in the class had found their animal by now and had started learning how to transform a bit at a time. Cyrus didn't even know what he was supposed to be. It was beyond frustrating.

"You should start meditating in areas with both low and high magical concentration. High concentration will allow you to sense many different flavors of magic, while low concentration will help you learn how to focus your senses so they are not confused by so much ambient energy," she lectured, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

Cyrus frowned thoughtfully. That sounded like a smart idea. He'd have to try that when he had a free moment – a luxury that didn't often present itself.

"Is that all, Mr. Obsidian? Will you be able to concentrate better now?"

Cyrus laughed nervously. "I think so, Professor. Thanks." He watched her nod and walk away before turning his attention back to the target. There was no point in worrying about a date that wasn't until later that night. Besides, it wasn't like he had to go on a second date, right? He could just say 'yeah, thanks, but no thanks. Bye.' Problem solved.

He glanced over at Yalmireth, who was steadily pounding his dummy with a reducto – one of the spells he'd been able to manage since Cyrus's session with him.

Okay, maybe the problem wasn't as solved as he'd like.

_oOo_

"You're goin' in _that?_"

Cyrus grumbled as he towel dried his hair. "Why do you always come barging in here, Tara? I could have come out of the bathroom naked!"

The vampire snorted and flipped her loose hair over her shoulder. "Yeah right. You never come outa the bathroom naked." She grinned. "Besides, lesbian? Remember? Even if I saw lil' Cy-Cy, it'd be as appealin' to me as a tree branch." She tossed his boxers at him and he scowled as she started picking through the other clothes he'd left in a pile on his bed. "You've gotta have somethin' nice in that trunk o' yours. These can't be _all_ your clothes." She raised an eyebrow, holding up a plain black T-shirt.

The human snatched the T-shirt out of her hands and pulled it over his head. He still didn't drop his towel, though, not feeling comfortable doing it with her in the room regardless of her sexual preference. Instead, he slipped the boxers on underneath the towel and tried to pull them up without flashing her or dropping the towel.

"Well, no. I don't really own anything nice. I've never needed to buy any."

She stared at him incredulously. "No fuckin' way. You are comin' with me. I ain't lettin' my human go into public on a _date_ wearin' _those_ rags."

"They're not rags! And since when am I _your_ human?"

"You're my donor, my human, same thing. And your clothes got holes in half of them! It's pretty obvious by your wardrobe that you ain't got a sense of fashion. So hurry up and put on your least disgustin' pair of pants. I'm taking you shoppin'."

Green eyes widened in horror. "No way, Tara. I'm not-"

"You can't go on your first date in that getup, Cyrus. Who's the lucky guy, anyway? Do I know him? Do I need to threaten him to put off the debauchin' until second date?"

Cyrus gaped at her for a moment, completely speechless. "N-n-no! Tara- Just. No! I should never have told you I even have a date!"

She grinned, bouncing on his mattress. "Heheh, you wouldn't have been able to keep it secret from me for long, Cyrus."

The human rolled his eyes. Tara had been practically bouncing off the walls all day. She _had_ just gotten away with murder, after all, and got to kill two of the bitches involved in Amelia's raping, as well as punish the third. She'd ambushed him in his room after Wandless magic class – Yalmireth still refused to even look at him for Merlin knew what reason – and had noticed his distraction. She would make a good interrogator one day. He'd spilled his guts in only a few minutes. Well, the part about the date. Not the part about how he'd only recently realized he was gay in the first place and Mac- Fuck. He really didn't need to be freaking out about that too, right now.

"I'm not going shopping with you! And I'm not telling you who it is! And- and- there's not even going to be a second date! So no threats are necessary!"

She looked at him as if he were speaking Welsh. "You serious? Cyrus, you have no idea at this point even if you like this guy, let alone whether or not he's gonna get you to agree to a second date. So, just chill. You're gettin' way too worked up over this. And as for the clothes, how about this: we only buy one outfit. I know you got the money. But if you can't stand my company for long enough to do a proper shoppin', the least you can do is not embarrass me in public by wearin' _that_ getup."

Cyrus frowned and looked down at his black T-shirt and the pants he'd pulled on during her tirade. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

She rolled her eyes. "For a gay man, you have _no_ clue about some things."

Cyrus bristled. "Just because I'm… I'm… _gay_," he spat out, "doesn't mean that I'm suddenly going to go around wearing skirts and make up and speaking with that weird lisp and shit!"

"Cyrus Obsidian!" Tara barked out. The human blinked and took a step back as Tara got right in his face, red eyes burning furiously. "I would suggest you be careful what you say to other people. It may be acceptable in the human realm for humans to disrespect other human lifestyles, but here? It's not cool. So keep your negative opinions to yourself, okay? Skirts or no skirts, we're all people. And most of us have the power to kick your ass."

Cyrus swallowed and licked his lips nervously. He looked away and clenched his fists. "Sorry," he muttered, regretting taking his frustration out on Tara. His stomach knotted. That had been the Dursleys' negative attitude towards... anything _different_ coming through. He shouldn't be so… close-minded. He was a wizard. 'A _gay_ wizard,' he thought mirthlessly to himself, sinking deeper into a pit of confusion and depression.

"You…" Tara began, and Cyrus turned turbulent eyes back to her. The fire inside her red eyes was fading slowly as she searched his face, dawning realization making her eyebrows rise and mouth part in surprise. "How long have you known you were… attracted to men?"

Cyrus let out a self-depreciating snort. "Before Christmas… I think," he muttered.

Tara looked genuinely surprised. "Wow. Took you a long time to figure it out, huh? I thought the Wizarding World was pretty open about that stuff unless it got in the way of the stupid purebloods trying to breed."

Cyrus twitched. "Yeah. Well. I grew up with muggles."

Her lips formed into a small 'o'. "I see… so you didn't always live with the two guardians listed in the Shikaan records?"

"No- hey, what? Shikaan records?"

Tara smiled a bit, amused. "Well yeah, dumbass. Librarian? Information is my currency."

Cyrus smiled halfheartedly. "Oh. Right."

She tilted her head to one side, staring at him. "Hmmm. Well, c'mon. We're gettin' you some sexy clothes. And you still got homework, right? I'll shadow walk us."

The human bit his lip and let out a breath. Well, maybe getting nice clothes for his first date would be a good idea. If she tried to replenish his wardrobe, though, he was disapparating. Period. "Fine. One outfit."

She grinned and grabbed him by the arm.

_oOo_

Five hours later found Cyrus doing homework and absently picking at the hem of his new green dress shirt. He still wasn't sure whether he liked the way the silky material tickled his skin when he moved, but he had to admit that a loose shirt and form fitting pants were much nicer looking and more comfortable than wizarding robes. He _hated_ robes, especially the formal ones. The layers and material and… eugh.

The faerie seamstress Tara had taken him too had been nice, though. She'd had wings and everything. Cyrus didn't know much about the fae, or if there was even a difference between a faerie and a fae, but aside from having eyes bigger than a human's and the… wings, she had been pleasant.

Distinctly inhuman in everything from mannerisms to the way her nipples were visible through her the straps of fabric that might be called a shirt, but pleasant.

A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts, and he glared down at the mostly complete homework in front of him. Runes was getting a lot harder. And this stupid transfiguration Runes homework was pissing him off the big one. He'd started working on it a week ago, and he'd been asking Rivehn questions at the end of each class, but he was still having difficulty with it.

Luckily, most of the class was as well, and Rivehn had outright admitted when he first handed it out that he expected half of the class to fail or nearly fail this first assignment.

Not a pleasant thought.

The knock sounded again, and he ripped himself away from the taunting mess of runes spread all across his conjured desk. He'd gotten sick of papers falling off his little dinner table, and he sucked at transfiguration, so conjuring had been the simplest solution.

Fidgeting with his collar, he opened the door. Ashawyn stood on the other side, unsurprisingly, with his usual disarming smile that made his eyes almost sparkle. When Cyrus just stood there for a moment, he raised an amused eyebrow, smile widening. "You going to invite me in?"

Blinking, the human moved to the side and let Ashawyn in. Closing the door again, he set up his usual half-assed wards. They still hadn't even begun to cover warding in Runes class, which irritated Cyrus to no end.

"What's this?" the ice fae asked, pulling one of Cyrus's rough drafts off the table and staring at the mess of symbols as if it were Chinese.

"Runes homework. It's a fucking pain in the ass. Normally it's like math for me, two plus two equals four, but I keep getting fives, tens, and fifties out of it." He sighed, grabbing one of the scrap sheets that he'd scribbled all over and crumpling it into a ball. He lit it on fire with a thought and kept it contained with a whim. Magic was a truly wonderful and tortuous thing.

"Interesting," Ashawyn said, amusement coloring his tone. "Sound like fun. I have to say I don't miss having to take all those extra classes. Focusing on necromancy is what I enjoy. But enough talk! We can chat more once we get to the restaurant and speaking of which…" he sauntered up to Cyrus, a flirtatious smile on his face. "You, Cyrus… look positively ravishing this evening," he said dramatically, capturing the human's hand and kissing the back of it romantically.

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "I may be gay, but I'm not a woman," he said, pulling his hand back. And then he remembered what Tara had warned him about earlier and winced. With his luck, he just mortally offended the fae. He knew _nothing_ about fae.

Thankfully, Ashawyn just laughed. "I was merely trying to show you that I find you attractive, but if that bothers your human sensibilities we can find another method." His voice trailed off into a murmur at the end as he maneuvered Cyrus against the bookshelf – again – and proceeded to kiss him on the mouth.

Cyrus felt dizzy, all his senses overwhelmed with _Ashawyn_. Flavor burst across his tongue as the fae pushed inside, thankfully not trying to touch him again, just gently and insistently pressing inside and ravishing his mouth until he felt high with sensation. When the ice fae finally pulled back, Cyrus let out a trembling breath and blinked at the sight of condensation in the air, as if he were outside in the snow rather than indoors.

"Whoa," he breathed shakily, trying to clear his mind from the fuzz that had set in with the kiss. Cho Chang hadn't been like _that_.

Ashawyn smiled, amused. "You ready to go eat now? Or do you want to…" his eyes flashed downward, raking over Cyrus's clothes.

The human cleared his throat nervously and pushed against Ashawyn's chest. "Dinner," he choked out, running a nervous hand through his hair. 'Never put out on the first date' was going to be his mantra for the evening. Merlin. He was already half-hard from a _kiss_.

"Very well," the fae said with a smile, placing his and on Cyrus's arm. "Shall we?"

What came next was nothing like the familiar squeezing sensation of disapparition. It almost felt as if Cyrus were melting and then being reconstructed again. When they appeared at their destination, his breath came out with a puff of condensation, but when he touched his skin there was only a slight lingering chill. It was very odd.

"Welcome to Yelaei ul Mbreida. The best fae pasta and greens in the sector. Not to mention the dessert that is to _die_ for," the fae introduced dramatically with a bright grin.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at the sight of the very unassuming little restaurant. "But it's so small."

Ashawyn rolled his eyes. "It's a family restaurant. They're not well known yet, but they're getting a reputation. In a year or two they'll probably have to upgrade." He led Cyrus inside with a gently guiding hand on his back, pointing out some pieces of artwork and commenting on them as they waited for a server to take them to a seat.

When a person finally _did_ come, the language they started speaking was decidedly not English. Ashawyn seemed to understand well enough, though, and soon they were lead to a secluded nook surrounded by rock gardens and plants. After leaving a pair of menus on their table, the server left with a bow.

Cyrus stared down at the foreign text, wondering how in the world he was supposed to order. "How many languages are there in Other Realm?" he asked faintly. Human Realm had to have more than fifty. He'd never counted, of course, but with how many diverse cultures there were, it had to be a lot.

Ashawyn smiled. "Many. The werewolves and vampires adopted human languages a long time ago, and have had enough contact with outsiders that not too many dialects have emerged. They were created by viral mutations, after all, unlike the rest of us."

Cyrus blinked. "Wait. Are you saying that the fae, demons, and elves aren't even related to humans?"

Ashawyn shrugged. "No one knows, really. Most of us are close enough in physical form that we must be related somehow, even if it's many, many generations back. The most unique species are of course the Goblins. I don't believe they're related to humans at all. Next is the demons. You've probably noticed a lot of them have different skin, hair, eyes, and body parts? Some scholars theorize that demons bred with humans many eons ago, but there's no real proof. Some are trying to prove it by taking advantage of the… what was it? DMA? Some sort of physical blue print of our bodies. Muggles discovered it, I believe. It's amazing what magicless humans will come up with to help explain the world around them… they're very curious. I for one don't care if it was humans, fae, elves, demons, or whomever that came first. I'm not one of those purists that refuses to speak to those outside of my own kind." He smiled and drank some of the water that the server had placed on their table during his 'lecture'.

The fae laughed. "But back to your original question, the fae, demons, goblins, elves, and other subgroups developed separately from humans for the most part, and that's reflected in our languages. We created Other Realm, actually. It was only in the last few millennia that vampires and werewolves joined us here. Some people are still angry about the outcome of the wars, too."

Cyrus choked on his water. "Wars?"

Ashawyn smiled sadly. "Yes. War exists in all cultures. I'm sure you are familiar with it in Human Realm?"

Thinking of Voldemort, the World Wars, and countless other feuds in history, Cyrus nodded.

"Back to the language part of it; among the subgroups within each species, we each have our own dialect. Some of the dialects can be understood by one another, similar to the different accents in spoken English. The difference is, we don't have a 'main' dialect like the Chinese have Mandarin, as we are all separate species and cultures, not different groups _within_ a culture."

Cyrus blinked. "Huh. I didn't know that. Is there a universal language? One that you all know?"

Ashawyn shook his head. "No. Actually, it's gotten so bad with the many languages that exist in both realms, that some scholars have researched the most effective ways to learn new languages with magic and potions and the like. It's also recommended that parents have their children learn ten languages before they are sent to senior magic school at around age sixteen. And sixteen is relative. The children that mature the slowest are the Elves. I believe they aren't sent to their senior education until they reach fifty years of age."

Cyrus gaped. "Whoa. So, when you said you were 21, are you actually that old? Or is that the human equivalent?"

Ashawyn laughed. "I'm surprised you remembered that. By human measurement I am 21. But in my own culture I am still not considered an adult. Our life spans are closer to three hundred of your years, after all."

"Huh," was all Cyrus managed to say. It was a lot to absorb in one sitting. Thankfully, the server came back at that moment with a smile and greeting in that musical language that made no sense to Cyrus at all.

He really needed to look into learning more languages if he decided to move to Other Realm. Of course, he didn't even know how welcome humans _were_ in Other Realm… it all seemed very complicated and he sooo didn't want to think about it right then.

"Cyrus? I already know what I want, but you haven't really had the chance to look at the menu yet."

Cyrus glanced down at the swirly symbols that made up the fae language – or was it dialect? – that he was looking at. "Um… do you have any suggestions?" he asked helplessly.

Ashawyn smiled. "Well, they don't prepare meat here. Your options are pastas, salads, fruit dishes, cooked nuts, other vegetables…"

"Er… can I get pasta? Just… whatever you think is good."

Ashawyn nodded and rattled off something to the server who smiled prettily and took back their menus.

After she had scurried away, Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Does she speak English at all?"

The fae shook his head. "Nope. This is a very traditional family restaurant. She probably knows just enough of the main languages used in Other Realm to get by. English isn't on the list."

Cyrus made a thoughtful sound in his throat and absently played with the odd cutlery on the table. It was the oddest shaped fork he'd ever seen, with three long spokes instead of four short ones.

"I hope you aren't overwhelmed," Ashawyn said carefully, a hopeful hint to his voice.

Cyrus looked up from fork he'd been playing with and blushed, embarrassed. "Sorry," he said, putting it down and trying to ignore it. "I've just never spent much time outside of Shikaan. I mean, Tara took me shopping today, and I've been to Shelby's Blood Bath, but nowhere else."

Ashawyn raised an eyebrow. "Why would you go to a vampire blood club?"

The human shrugged and took a sip of water. "I had to. School gathering, or something, for the vampire students. I'm Tara's donor."

Ashawyn's eyes very suddenly lost most of their pigment, turning nearly white. "You… you're a vampire donor?"

Cyrus blinked. "Um… yes?"

"I… see."

The human frowned at the blank look on Ashawyn's face. "What? What is it?"

The ice fae shrugged. "Nothing."

Cyrus raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Right. Like I believe that."

Ashawyn didn't seem inclined to speak, but when Cyrus started to get seriously annoyed he finally cracked. "I just… Well. I don't like vampires. I'm sure some of them are nice enough, but their whole culture… A lot of fae aren't on very good terms with them, especially with the wars, and the recent fiasco with vampires feeding on unwilling faerie in sector two. It hasn't been pleasant. The council's been pushing for sector two to be a fang-free zone."

Cyrus frowned. "Sector two? How many sectors are there, exactly?"

"Well, there are quite a few. Sectors one through three are mostly fae populated areas, with high forest density. A group of vampires went trolling through sector two a few months ago and some faerie got killed, and now the council's pushing to get vampires banned from the sector. Who knows how well that'll turn out. The vampires have very skilled lawyers in their command, after all."

"But, I don't get it. What's a sector?"

Ashawyn took a drink of water. "Kind of like a country, except the borders aren't tightly controlled. Each sector is a section of land that was fought or negotiated for during or after the wars. Since then, multiple treaties have been drawn up, and the territory lines were officially drawn. Since I've brought you into sector three, I vouch for your being here. If you cause any trouble while you're here, I'm directly responsible. The same thing probably went for when Tara took you to Shelby's in sector four. If you tried to travel to these areas yourself, you'd likely run into trouble. You need to be registered as a traveling human in order to move through the sectors freely, and even then some sectors won't be open to you. The elves are the most private and stuck up. They don't let any humans have travelers rights into their sectors, as far as I know."

Brain just about ready to explode from information, Cyrus let out a relieved breath when their food finally arrived. He stared at his pasta for a moment, confused.

It was purple.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked up at Ashawyn's dish, which was an artistic mesh of color and leafy bits. The fae smiled at him obliviously as he dug into his own food.

Cyrus looked back down at the mass of purple. Shrugging slightly, he picked up his fork, stabbed it into the middle of the mass, and started twisting in typical pasta fashion. When he had enough on the fork for a mouthful, he took the plunge and stuffed it into his mouth, biting off the leftover bits still connected to the plate. Chewing slowly, his eyebrows rose in surprise at the burst of nutty flavor. The texture was very different than human pasta. The outside of the large, hollow noodles was soft, but the inner layer had a crunch to it.

After he finished his first bite, he decided he very much liked the new dish. "What is this again?" he asked, taking a drink from the fruit juice that had come with the dish. It was very sweet, but had just enough tart to wash down without making your taste buds explode.

"I believe that is called Nashjevaeil. Nash is the plant that the noodles are made from, and jevaeil is the seasoning - the purple stuff that it's cooked in, basically." At Cyrus's odd look, he grinned sheepishly. "I'm a bit of a cook myself. I can never get the noodles quite so crunchy on the inside. Don't know how they do it."

"Huh." Shrugging, Cyrus continued eating, occasionally picking at the leafy bits and fruits that had come on a side dish. Some of them were very sweet, but a couple were so sour he'd had to chug an entire glass of water to Ashawyn's amusement.

"So tell me about yourself, Cyrus," Ashawyn said a few minutes later with a hopeful smile. "What kinds of classes are you taking? What do you do for fun?"

The human stared down at his Nashjesomething. He was enjoying the date so far. And Ashawyn didn't seem like such a bad guy… besides, this was what you were supposed to do on a date, right? Get to know the other person? "Well… There's Weapons and Battle, Wandless, Dark Arts and Their Defense… Runes, Necromancy, Animagus… and Healing."

Ashawyn's eyebrows rose. "That's quite a few. What are your favorites?"

Cyrus licked his lips nervously, twisting his fork for another mouthful. Maybe if he ate something, he wouldn't have to talk as much. There was only so much he could share about himself before they went into Potter territory, after all… "Runes and Necromancy."

The ice fae smiled. "Now, Necromancy I'm not surprised about, but Runes? I thought you said earlier that you didn't like the class."

Cyrus shook his head. "No, it's the assignment we're doing. It's… evil." He stuffed the fork in his mouth.

Ashawyn smiled. "I see. That's too bad. Necromancy was my favorite class, though I took other courses like you are now. I was very lucky, actually, to get Mikhail for a Master. He's very selective with his students, and the last one he had was some decades ago. Personally, I think it's because they keep dying on him."

Cyrus's eyes snapped up from where they'd drifted down to his food. He swallowed quickly. "Dying?" he asked curiously.

Ashawyn smiled sadly. "Some Masters take many apprentices because they enjoy teaching, while others never take one. Mikhail, I think, falls somewhere in the middle. There are four apprentices that I know of that died while he was teaching them. Now, it's not unusual for a learning necromancer to get eaten by their own inferi, or for their death magic to consume them and kill them, but Mikhail's had a particularly bad run of luck. That's why I think he's so picky. He's trying to find one that won't make a stupid mistake and die on him. Again."

The server came at that moment and rattled something off to Ashawyn. The ice fae smiled, said something back, and she was scurrying off again.

Cyrus twisted his fork for another bite. He was almost done. The quicker he finished, the faster he could leave. But did he _want_ to leave…? He was kind of enjoying himself… "That sucks. So they've all… how does one get killed practicing necromancy, anyway? I mean, I've studied some of the more dramatic cases in Yankovich's class, but those were all fully trained necromancers making stupid decisions."

Ashawyn hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of his fruit juice. "Well… untrained necromancers have to be careful that their natural magic doesn't get too low, for one, for long periods of time. If you practice your magic and constantly bring yourself close to magical exhaustion, you run the risk of your death magic going rogue and killing you. Your natural magic stores act as a balance to that energy."

Cyrus frowned. "How does it 'go rogue'?"

"Picture in your mind a set of scales. When you use all your natural magic, the scale tips in the death magic's favor. If it is not brought back into balance, the axel on which the scale balances begins to strain. As soon as it weakens to the point of breaking, your death magic kills you."

"O-oh… how long does it have to be out of balance for that to happen?"

Ashawyn shrugged. "It depends on the necromancer. Some can handle the strain for days, some weeks. Others can't last a few hours magical exhaustion before their death magic kills them."

Cyrus's eyes widened. "Why didn't Yankovich ever tell us this?!"

The ice fae shrugged. "Multiple reasons, I'm sure. One, there are natural barriers on every necromancer's death magic when it's first awakened. He probably only has you doing small raisings of muggles, right? Until your death magic becomes more active, there's less chance of it going out of control. It's when the magic is fully awakened and you can do large raisings that drain all your death magic at once that you have to start being concerned and aware of your internal balance."

"How? How can you- how do you learn how to be aware?"

Ashawyn opened his mouth to answer, but the server came back at that moment with a bright smile and a heaping bowl suspended by four 'legs' filled with some sort of… ice cream? Gelato? And it was literally covered in fruit and chunks of colorful sugar crystals. The ice fae nodded his thanks and she left again.

"It's called _uirdash_. I do not know the human name for it, but it is a fruit and ice treat." He smiled. "I love ice treats," he said before scooping off a section of it with a spoon and holding it out to Cyrus. "Try it."

The human stared at the spoon held inches from his mouth. It _did_ look good… Throwing caution to the wind, he leaned forward and took the spoon into his mouth, ignoring the pleased expression on Ashawyn's face in favor of the flavors bursting across his tongue like fireworks. What was it with fae food tasting better than human food? It was criminal. Humming in delight, he pulled away from the spoon and savored the fruity flavor. It was the best dessert he'd ever had.

"You like?" Ashawyn said with heat in his eyes, taking the spoon that had been in Cyrus's mouth and licking the back of it. The human's lips parted in surprise, and his pants started to feel just a little bit tighter. Blushing, he nodded, snagging the other spoon the server had left and helping himself.

"So, my question?"

Ashawyn blinked, eyes flicking upwards from where they had been… watching his mouth? "Question? Oh. Right. It takes some people a while, but you just have to-" he cut himself off, checking his pocket and frowning. He looked at Cyrus. "You going to get that? I swear it's not my magi-com, and I've been hearing it vibrate for the past ten minutes."

Cyrus blinked and then swore and dug into his bag, trying to locate the device he'd tossed in it ages ago and forgotten about. Pulling it out, he opened the flip and put it to his ear. "Hello?" he said, hoping they hadn't hung up yet.

_"FINALLY! Do you have any idea how many fucking times I've phoned you in the past hour? You know what, never mind. Don't answer that question. Sorry to interrupt your dream date, Juliet, but you got a serious fucking problem over here."_

Cyrus frowned and put up a silencing ward. If Ashawyn's ears were so sensitive he had heard a magi-com vibrating, the human probably didn't want to chance the fae hearing this conversation. "Tara? What are you talking about?"

_"It's your guardian. Rema… uh, Remus? Anyway, the bat, Snape? He came by your room a little while after you left – and you're lucky I went there to tell you good luck and missed you! – and apparently your other guardian is like… well, going to die. Soon. So, you need to get your ass home, you hear?"_

Cyrus felt his heart freeze in his chest. "W-what?" he whispered, turning away from Ashawyn's curious gaze and focusing on the rock next to their table instead.

_"Remus is probably going to die, Snape said. He got poisoned or something. Anyway, he came to get you, but you weren't here, so he told me to get a hold of you as soon as I could and tell you to get your ass back home. So tell Romeo you need a rain check. Gotta go now! Good luck with your guardian,"_ she said, hanging up before he could even get in a word edgewise. Cursing under his breath, he closed the magi-com, shoved it into his pocket, and pushed out of his seat, tearing down the silencing ward with an angry twist of magic.

Ashawyn followed. "What's going on, Cyrus?"

The human, still not completely comprehending that Remus was _dying_, turned to Ashawyn in a daze. "My… uh… one of my guardians. He's injured. I've gotta… I gotta go."

The fae came around the table and ran a hand down his cheek, icy blue eyes staring into his own. Warmth spread from the touch, and all he wanted to do was stand there and let Ashawyn kiss him, but he had other shit to deal with. With a shake of his head, he pushed the fae away, clearing the fog from his thoughts. "I have to go. Now. Thanks for the date. I'll see you around." Before Ashawyn could even open his mouth, he had disapparated.

_oOo_

Cyrus apparated into the middle of the living room with a loud crack, not having the presence of mind to decrease the noise. Severus was at his side in a moment, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him upstairs to the bedroom. The human followed in a daze, barely registering the fact that Severus was manhandling him when he caught sight of Remus.

He stumbled back into the wall. A mediwitch was running diagnostic charms over him, and had placed a cold cloth on the werewolf's forehead. He looked… he looked horrible. The veins in his body stood out in sharp relief against his pale and scarred skin, blackened unnaturally.

"It is silver poisoning of some kind," Severus said quietly, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at his lover with a blank expression. "I brought him earlier today. The pack members said that he had been feeling sick all morning. He was perfectly healthy before he left to see the pack, so I can only assume that he was poisoned after he departed."

Cyrus swallowed. "Can she heal him?"

Severus said nothing for a moment before shaking his head. "No. She says she has never seen the likes of this silver poisoning. Her attempts to remove it failed. It is in his blood stream, and at this venture it is likely that it has poisoned his very tissues. There is… nothing she can do."

Cyrus walked forward slowly, around the bed to the side that wasn't occupied by mediwitch. Remus's eyes slowly opened, and he smiled half-heartedly up at the human. He tried to choke out a greeting, but Cyrus just shook his head and took one of the werewolf's hands in his own. Placing the other on the man's chest, he closed his eyes and sent his energy inside, as he did with healing.

He could almost taste the poison on his tongue. He could feel the silver, and… and something else. And Severus had been right. It was started to attack the very cells in Remus's body. He could see it inside, tearing apart the werewolf's body from the inside out. He was literally dying before Cyrus's eyes.

"Is there nothing we can do?" he asked softly, pulling out and casting a cooling charm on the cloth on Remus's forehead.

The werewolf's eyes closed, and the grim look on the mediwitch's face didn't do much for Cyrus's confidence.

"He's dying," she said softly, patting Remus gently on the arm. "And since I'm not sure if potions will react negatively with the poison, I can't even stop the pain."

Cyrus frowned. A niggling idea was insinuating itself into his mind. "You can't use potions, no, but what about stopping the pain impulses from going to his brain at all?"

The mediwitch stared at him in incomprehension. "Even if I knew how to do what you just said, I am not a Healer. I am only a mediwitch. I am trained to use spells and potions to heal, not raw magic as a Healer does."

Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "Well, _I_ can stop the pain impulses to his brain." He moved forward, but Remus choked slightly and shook his head. "Why not?" the human asked, frustrated.

"Just… dull…" Wracking coughs shook the bed, and Cyrus felt his eyes begin to sting, seeing the last connection he had to his parents and now his _guardian_ fall apart in front of him. Seeing the blood on the Were's lips, the mediwitch gently dabbed it away.

Severus translated. "He probably would like you to dull the pain, Cyrus. If you stop him from feeling pain altogether, he will not know when his body begins to fail him."

Cyrus swallowed and blinked rapidly, trying to dry his eyes. "Okay, Remus. I can do that," he said softly, smiling tremulously back at the werewolf. Closing his eyes, he pushed his magic into the sickly body beneath his hand and sent it to the base of his brain. Locating the pain nerves easily because of the constant electric pulses pumping pain into Remus's brain, he placed dampening magic around them that would whittle away the strength of the signals until they were pinching levels of pain instead of 'my-body-is-slowly-melting'.

Oh Merlin… Remus… "Isn't there something we can do?" he asked Severus. "She's just a mediwitch, right?" he asked, ignoring the way the woman glared at him out of the corner of his eye. "What if we brought an actual Healer here? Would they be able to fix him?"

Severus looked thoughtful. "We cannot bring a Healer from the Wizarding World into this house. One, I am a known Death Eater now that I have left the protective claws of Dumbledore. Two, Remus is a werewolf. Very few Healers would be willing to be in the same room as one, let alone heal one. And three, Dumbledore and Voldemort's spies are everywhere. They cannot know the location of this house. I only told the mediwitch because she made an unbreakable vow not to reveal its location to anyone."

Cyrus frowned. "Okay, but why _is_ she here? You just said that no Healer would be caught dead in the same room as a werewolf. She's a mediwitch."

"She is a newly turned werewolf from Remus's pack. Some of the more loyal members, her included, also informed me that it is very likely someone inside the pack poisoned him. I would return and tear apart their minds until I found the culprit, but Remus refuses," the vampire snapped, fangs glinting between his thin lips as he spoke.

"He's protecting all the _innocent_ werewolves, Mr. Snape. You can't just rip apart every person's mind that you run into on the street looking for the bad guy. It's not right," the mediwitch argued passionately, eye beginning to glow amber.

The vampire, arms still crossed over his chest, hissed at her. "I will if I have to."

Cyrus shook his head. "Well aside from finding out who did it and what kind of poison they used, it's not going to do Remus much good, right? We need to find a Healer that can heal him. Did you think of anyone in Other Realm?"

The mediwitch frowned. "What is Other Realm?"

Cyrus stared. "You're a werewolf. How can you _not _know?"

Severus snorted. "There are two kinds of werewolf, Cyrus. Those that left for Other Realm many years ago evolved to the point where they are capable of controlling their beast and transforming at will. It was knowing this that made me believe creating the Wolfsbane potion was possible. But in regards to Healers from Other Realm, I have not been in contact with that world for some time. I do not know anyone who would be willing to come here and heal a werewolf without questions, and Remus is too ill to transport."

Cyrus bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment. "Wait. What about Healer Svea? My Healing professor?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You believe this Healer would be willing to come here and swear an oath?"

The human shrugged. "It's worth a try, right?"

The werewolf stood there in thought for a moment before nodding sharply. "Very well. Retrieve this professor, if you can."

Cyrus nodded and left the room before disapparating, not wanting to disturb Remus too much with the noise.

He apparated right into the Healer's waiting room and walked up to TA sitting at the desk, probably doing homework. "Excuse me? I need to speak to Healer Svea. Is he in right now?"

The TA looked up with a raised eyebrow. "He only comes in for emergencies during off hours. Anything else I take care of. You need a broken bone set or something?"

Cyrus took in a calming breath, repeating an _'I will not kill this idiot'_ mantra in his mind. "Well, this is an emergency. A friend of mine has been poisoned with silver."

The TA immediately perked up a bit, now paying full attention. "A werewolf I take it? That's pretty bad. Svea doesn't take cases outside of the school, though. He's not paid for them. You have to contact another Healer with a private practice or get an account with the Aengar. They don't come cheap, though. Most clans have their own Healers. This werewolf doesn't have a Healer to take care of this in his own clan?"

Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "The mediwitch is incapable, yes."

The TA shrugged. "Well, that's too bad. I have a list of Healers who have a private practice, if you want to phone them."

Cyrus put his hands on the desk and leaned forward, magic crackling under his skin and starting to heat the air around them. "I don't think you understand," Cyrus said in a soft voice, boring into the man's eyes with his own. "I need a Healer I can trust. Now. And Svea is that Healer. So you will call him here, and _he_ will be the one to refuse me. Not. You. Do we understand each other?"

The guy snorted. "If you think I feel threatened by a _first_ year student, you've-"

Cyrus didn't wait for him to finish, summoning his magic and slamming the TA against the wall with sheer power. The guy tried to break free of it with spells, but as it was pure magic they had no effect. When the human spotted a knife slipping into the TA's hand, he pasted him more thoroughly to the wall, disarmed him, and held his limbs away from his body so he couldn't slip any other weapons free. In a last bid for freedom, the guy sent a powerful Dark curse at him, but Cyrus knocked it to the side with a shield and snapped his death stick into his hand. Walking around the desk, he held it to the TA's throat.

"Now," Cyrus said loftily, eyes sharp and cold. "I will say it again. Call. Svea. Here."

The TA cleared his throat nervously and nodded. "O-of course. Yeah. I-I can do that," he stuttered. When Cyrus didn't let him down, he cleared his throat. "I-I need the magi-com on the d-desk." Cyrus let him down, but kept his wand trained on the guy. Thankfully, there were no other tricks up his sleeve and he just picked up the phone and hit speed dial.

After a murmured conversation into the phone, Svea appeared with a glow of light. The energy of his transportation discharged like fireflies, fading into the air around him. "There is an emergency?" Svea asked his TA after glancing at Cyrus. The human sheathed his wand.

The TA just pointed at Cyrus, looking decidedly pale.

Healer Svea looked him up and down. "You do not appear to have been bitten by an inferius again, Mr. Obsidian. Or sustained any other injuries that you cannot heal yourself." He narrowed his eyes on the TA who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"It's my guardian, a werewolf. He's been poisoned by silver, and- and something else. I don't know any other Healers in Other Realm who might be able to save him. He's… he's dying." Cyrus swallowed back the despair that threatened to choke his words.

Svea crossed his arms over his chest, looking decidedly unimpressed. "As my TA should know, I do not take cases that occur outside of the walls of Shikaan or my own clan, Mr. Obsidian."

The human gathered his courage. "There must be some sort of arrangement we can come to. I have money."

The elf laughed. "I do not require funds, Mr. Obsidian. Shikaan pays well enough for my needs."

Cyrus bit his lip, starting to get desperate. "There must be _something_. He's- He's going to die!"

Healer Svea stared at him with a blank expression, and the human's spirits began to drop. The elf wasn't known for being… well, nice. In fact, he was one of the most inflexible teachers Cyrus had ever had, and that was saying something. He'd known the chances might be slim when asking the Healer… but… it was _Remus_.

"You are familiar with the Human Realm, Mr. Obsidian?" Svea asked, neither his tone nor his face giving anything away.

Cyrus blinked. "Well. Moderately."

"I am in need of someone capable of navigating both the magical and muggle worlds in Human Realm to retrieve items for me. Potions ingredients, chemicals, medical books and supplies… Do you believe yourself capable of this? Do you have any experience with the muggle world?"

Nervously licking his lips, Cyrus nodded. "I'm familiar with both, yes."

"I have seen the lack of sense some magical humans possess. Have you ever lived in the muggle world for any period of time?"

The human blinked. "I grew up with muggles, Healer Svea. I can get you what you need. Does this mean you'll help me?"

Svea stared at him inscrutably for a few moments, strands of his long white hair falling into his face from where they'd escaped the tie. Cyrus didn't see why the elves tied their hair that way. What was the point of tying it between your shoulder blades instead of the base of your neck? It would constantly fall out and get in your face… was probably an elf thing…

"Very well. I will do my best to help this… werewolf. You must understand, however, that silver is a very precarious poison to extract from werewolves. We must hurry."

Cyrus nodded. "If you don't mind, I'll have to take you there myself?" he asked hesitantly. Svea inclined his head and held out a hand. Cyrus gripped it and paused. He had no way to get the elf past the wards. Frowning, he pictured the muggle street and gate just outside Spinner's end, remembering the first time Severus had taken him there and added him to the wards. With a quiet pop, the waiting room disappeared around them.

Cyrus had to go and get Severus to add Svea to the wards, and he had to admit watching the two most stoic men he knew stare each other down was at the same time the most entertaining and boring thing he'd ever witnessed. After a minute of grand standing, Svea finally swore an oath not to reveal the location of the house to anyone, or take advantage of his being welcomed into the wards.

Finally, they went up the stone walkway and up to Remus's room. Upon seeing Remus's state, Svea's eyes narrowed and he commanded the mediwitch to step away. She did so with wide eyes and watched, fascinated, as Svea placed his hands in the air above Remus and began to glow a soft white. After a few minutes, the magic faded and Cyrus felt his insides squirm at the grave look on the elf's face.

"I am afraid there is nothing I can do for him. I have never seen the likes of this poison. It simultaneously has the same effects as both silver and Wolfsbane, but there is another chemical that is slowing its progression. He should have died nearly instantly, but instead must now suffer a slow, painful death."

Remus, who had been watching Svea with hopeful eyes, closed them and coughed. Seeing the blood on his lips, Svea conjured a cloth and wiped it away. If Cyrus had been in the right state of mind, he would have been surprised at the uncharacteristic sympathy on the elf's face, but as it was he just felt even more depressed. "There must be something. Why is it impossible? Can't you just extract it like with every other poison?"

Svea shook his head. "I do not have the sheer magical capacity to heal a poisoning of this magnitude, especially for someone not of my species. Healers are most effective when helping their own kind. Cross species healing is difficult and requires large amounts of magic."

Cyrus shook his head, not willing to just give up so easily. "There must be something. When I was involved in a raising, I channeled death magic to three other necromancers in order for them to raise the inferi. Can't we do the same?"

"No. That is impossible with natural magic. Death magic remains the same, no matter what species in which the gift develops, but magic does not possess the same properties. Your magic is too different from my own for me to be able to use it effectively, and teaching you the proper converting technique would take far too much time."

Cyrus still didn't get it, but he wasn't going to give up. He had healed Yalmireth without any difficulties. They were learning a lot of theory and anatomy in class, and how to heal themselves. He'd already learned how to extract poisons from his own blood stream and tissues – they'd covered that before Christmas – so how was this any different? "Can't you at least try?" he snapped, desperation making him forget that it probably wasn't a good idea to piss Svea off.

The elf's expression didn't change, though. He watched Cyrus carefully for a moment before looking at Remus again. "I will try on the condition that our original agreement still stands. You will be in my service until your graduation from Shikaan, regardless of whether or not this healing works. I do not waste my efforts with no compensation. Understood?"

Cyrus nodded. "Yes."

Svea inclined his head and conjured a chair with a wave of his white wand before disappearing it up his voluminous sleeve again. "Come here," Svea commanded without opening his eyes as he placed them over Remus's chest. "You might as well learn something."

Cyrus conjured himself a chair with a wave of his hand and sat down next to the elf.

"Place your hand on his stomach and observe. It is pointless to try to teach you the conversion technique, but you will be able to see how a poisoning of this magnitude is removed from a body. I will be using the second and third techniques. Recite to me all three."

Eyes closed as well, Cyrus twitched as he felt the large amount of magic that Svea was gathering between his hands. Watching the process, he absently recited, "Localized poisoning extraction directly from a wound by attaching your magic to the poison and pulling it out, bleeding it out by creating small cuts over the major veins for blood stream poisoning, and full body removal through the pores for when it has already entered the tissues and saturates the entire body."

"Good. Why the veins? Why not the arteries?"

"Veins take blood back to the heart. The blood moves slower because there isn't as much pressure like in arteries."

"Very good. Mediwitch, if you would please keep the sheets clean as unobtrusively as possible?"

"Yes, Master Healer," the soft voice of the werewolf came from where she stood near Severus. Cyrus absently noticed her shuffle over as he watched Svea begin to form the magic in his hands.

It was one of the strangest works of magic he'd ever seen. There was no spell, necessarily; it was just a huge… funnel? Yeah. It looked like a funnel. He could feel the way the multiple rings that made up the structure rotated at different speeds, clockwise and counter clockwise. Finally, when it seemed like it was complete, Svea began channeling his magic down the funnel and into Remus's body, and Cyrus watched in complete fascination as the rotating rings of the funnel twisted and changed the magic until what actually entered Remus's body was the same 'flavor' as the werewolf's own magic. He'd never noticed the different flavors before, but after watching the elven magic convert into Were magic he could pick it out, the… the wavelength, the frequency, the whatever-it-was-that-made-magic-different.

The magic that entered Remus got to work, distributing first through the blood stream and gathering the poison in it into his femoral vein. "Mr. Obsidian, if you would please make an incision? Focusing on three things at once at this point would be unwise."

Moving quickly, Cyrus sent out his magic and sliced Remus's leg open just enough for a the poison to be removed. Svea healed it right afterwards, using his magic to keep the blood from gushing all over the place. Cyrus could feel the sheets move under his fingers as the mediwitch lifted them and got rid of the poison. He could hear Snape speak quietly to her, but didn't bother to pay attention, as Svea was already beginning the extraction process from Remus's tissues.

"We begin with the most life threatening wounds first when healing. In this case, I will be removing the poison from his brain. Without the brain, we cease to function. Mediwitch, please be advised the poison will be extracted through the ears."

"Yes, Master Healer," she said softly again.

And Svea began the process of removing the poison from Remus's brain. After that, he did the heart, lungs, liver, digestive system…

He was in the middle of cleaning out the pancreas when his magic started running out.

"I will have enough magic to begin removal of the poison from his kidneys, but I will be unable to finish, Mr. Obsidian. It is as I said. Unless you find a Healer of my caliber in the next hour or less, he will still die. The skin, the largest organ in the body, has yet to be cleansed, as well as his muscles, fatty tissues, and lymphatic system. You are fortunate we caught the poison before it entered his bone marrow, but it makes no difference."

Knowing that the likelihood of them finding a competent Healer in the next hour was slim to none, Cyrus decided to take a gamble. Holding his hands above Remus's body, he channeled the same amount of magic he'd 'seen' Svea channel, and started forming the same rotating rings, based off what the elf's had looked like.

"Mr. Obsidian. I would advise against this action. You are not a fully trained healer-"

Somehow just _knowing_ that the same rotation wouldn't work for both of them, he focused on lining up the magic within Remus's body and his own.

"-and we haven't even begun to-"

The three largest rings, close to his hands, changed speed and direction slightly. Feeling them 'click', he sent his magic through the funnel and into Remus's body, taking over the poison removal in the Kidneys.

"-cover this in… class…"

Svea's voice trailed off, but Cyrus paid it no mind. His entire focus was on every detail he had learned about the poison removal process while watching Svea. First, he sent his magic into the cells of the kidneys. Next, he 'attached' the magic onto the poisonous particles. Once he had a hold on all the poison, he pulled it out of the cells one by one and gathered it in the renal pelvis, the area that toxins in your body were funneled into after being filtered from the blood stream.

"Healer Svea, do I remove the poison from the kidneys via the urethra?"

The elf was silent for a moment. "Yes. Ensure that you do not forget to remove the poison from the ureter and urethra as well. Mediwitch," Svea called, letting his own funnel dissolve and pulling the magic back into his channels.

Flushing Remus's system of poison was easy after that. Well, not necessarily easy, but with Svea there, watching every move he made and advising him on locations and methods to remove the poison (they hadn't gone into such detail in class yet), he managed to cleanse Remus's whole body before the hour was up.

When he could no longer sense any poison remaining in the werewolf's body, he let the funnel collapse and pulled it back into his body, falling back in his chair in exhaustion. Checking his resources, he was surprised to find that he had used a huge chunk of his magic during the healing process. He estimated that he would probably be able to heal around ten people Remus's size and weight before he was completely drained of magic. That was… well. He'd never had to worry about his magical reserves before, but _now…?_

He'd just have to hope that he didn't need to cleanse more than ten people at once.

Opening his eyes, he gratefully accepted the glass of water that Severus was holding out to him. Wiping the sweat from his face with a hand, he started chugging. When he'd finally emptied it, he handed it back to Severus with a nod and turned his attention back to Remus, whom the mediwitch was bustling about and no longer looked like all his blood had turned black.

Content that his guardian was out of the red, he finally looked at Svea, not knowing exactly what kind of expression he wanted to see on the elf's face. It was blank, as per usual, but the way that Svea just _stared_ at him, as if he were pulling the wings off a fly just to see what would happen was kind of… creepy. He raised a defensive eyebrow, casting a wandless cleaning charm on himself to get rid of the stink and stick of sweat. His clothes had been soaked as if he'd been running instead of sitting still.

"I should have asked for a different form of payment," Svea said simply, raising his own challenging eyebrow.

"Huh," Cyrus grunted noncommittally, not sure he wanted to know exactly what that might have been. "Thanks for coming, Healer Svea. Remus would be dead now if it weren't for you."

The elf let out a small snort of air. "Yes, so it would seem. But he would have died regardless if it were not for you." The Healer stood and brushed the wrinkles out of his white robes. "Do you have a magi-com with which I may contact you for the fulfillment of our agreement?"

Cyrus nodded and pulled it out of his pocket, where he'd jammed it earlier in his hurry to go see Remus. Flicking a few buttons, he called up his own number (which he had yet to memorize), and recited it to Svea. The elf inclined his head without saying a word or writing it down. "Mediwitch, I trust you will help the werewolf to full recovery?"

The woman nodded with a bright smile. "Yes. Thank you very much, Master Healer."

Svea gave that half-nod again and disappeared in a flurry of white fireflies.

Cyrus flinched when Severus came up behind him and put his hands on the human's shoulders. Still not comfortable with physical contact, Cyrus wondered how long he could force himself to sit there before he had to just _get away_ from the touch. 'It's only Severus,' he kept telling himself, but it didn't seem to help.

"Thank you, Cyrus," the vampire said softly, squeezing slightly before letting go and sitting next to Remus on the bed. "Katherine, if you could please seal the container of poison and leave it on the dresser?"

"Yes, Mr. Snape," she said softly, grabbing a basin that Cyrus hadn't noticed sitting next to the bed and moving it to the other side of the room.

"Remus?" Severus asked softly, gently running a hand down the side of the werewolf's face.

After it appeared Remus was still unconscious from the physical strain of having magic pull poison from nearly every cell in his body, the vampire slumped slightly and placed his other hand over the Were's heart. Cyrus wondered if he could feel the vibrations of a heartbeat against his hand.

"He may not wake up for some time, Mr. Snape," Katherine began tentatively. "His body's undergone a huge strain. It may take days for him to fully recover."

Severus's head dipped slightly. "I am going to find out who did this to you, Remus," he said quietly before standing up, a determined set to his shoulders.

Cyrus blinked. "Severus? What- where are you going?" he asked as the vampire stalked around him and to the door.

"Katherine believes that another werewolf poisoned Remus. I will find out who it was if I have to rip apart their minds for answers!"

Alarmed, Cyrus stood from his seat. "You can't just- Severus! There are other ways of finding out who did it. You can't just rip apart the minds of innocent people until you do!"

Severus bared his fangs, and Cyrus resisted the urge to take a step back. This was the vampire that had cast crucio on him just so he could find his magical core. What was stopping him from physically removing Cyrus from his way? Preparing his magic under his skin, he shifted on his feet until he was better balanced to defend or attack. Not that he'd be able to fight a vampire _anyway_.

"S-severus," a weak voice croaked, and before Cyrus could even blink Severus had moved behind him and now sat on the edge of Remus's bed.

"Remus? How are you feeling," the vampire said softly, his attitude having completely turned around.

The werewolf cleared his throat, and Severus brought a glass of water to his lips. After taking a few sips, he spoke again. "I've been better. I'd feel even better if you weren't going to hurt those loyal in my pack."

Severus hissed quietly. "Someone _poisoned you_, Remus. Silver, cut with Wolfsbane and something else! It was killing you slowly and painfully!"

Remus let out a soft sigh. "Yes, it was. But now I'm better, Severus, and I don't want to worry about you hurting my wolves. So please, promise me you won't hurt those not involved?"

The vampire was silent for a long moment, before he finally caved. "Fine. But what about the guilty parties?"

Cyrus started as Remus's eyes glowed soft amber and narrowed, a snarl baring his teeth. "Bring them here. I want to look into the eyes of the wolf who tried to kill me before I tear his throat out."

Severus placed a calming hand on top of Remus's own. "You are too weak to kill him. And a torn throat is not an unpleasant enough death. May I?"

Remus looked surprised. "What do _you_ plan to do with him?"

The smirk that spread across Severus's face was scary, to say the least. "I will keep him alive as I remove the body parts that are suitable ingredients. There is a potion I have been wanting to try for some time, but I was unwilling to pay for the vital ingredient on the black market."

Remus looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "Very well. You may," he said with a hard glint in his eyes. The werewolf had changed a lot, since Christmas. He wouldn't have agreed to something that… he wouldn't have agreed to _torture_, before. Cyrus wasn't sure if Severus's obvious influence was a good thing or not. On one hand, Remus would hopefully survive as alpha, but on the other…? Well, it wasn't like Cyrus could do anything about it even if he wanted to. He just hoped that the changes turned out for the better.

"Thank you," Severus said quietly, leaning forward and kissing Remus tenderly on the lips. Cyrus politely averted his eyes. It was one thing knowing that the two were… well, but seeing it was a completely different story. He didn't need details.

"Cyrus. While I am gone I want you to do a complete diagnostic on Remus and make sure there is nothing out of place. Understood?"

The human raised an eyebrow. "…sure."

Severus nodded and disappeared into the shadows of the bed without a sound.

Rolling his eyes at the typical vampire dramatics, Cyrus plunked himself back down in his chair and sighed. He wished he knew some cool swearwords in one of the Other Realm languages. Making a mental note to look into it when he had a free moment, he put his hands on Remus's chest and ran an in depth diagnostic. Aside from what appeared to be a healing fracture in his arm, he was perfectly healthy. Sending healing energy to the bone, he paused as he noticed something odd. Pulling back the magic, he frowned. Sending the magic with the intent to heal again, he stopped. There it was again. Slowing down the process, his eyebrows climbed into his forehead at what he was 'seeing' or 'feeling' happen.

Holy shit. He'd never noticed before. His magic automatically created a much smaller version of the funnel as soon as he sent it anywhere near Remus's body.

How could he not have noticed? Had it done that when he'd healed Yalmireth's leg when they first met? It must have. At the time Cyrus hadn't even known that healing cross species was supposed to be… difficult. Or that he needed to use an energy converter.

And how come the version he subconsciously created to heal Remus's broken bone was so much smaller than that funnel with the rotating rings? It didn't make any sense. Svea had implied that it was arduous to heal someone from another species, but for Cyrus… it was easy. He hadn't even noticed the funnel being created, it was just _there_, almost like… it was like breathing. He didn't even think about it. Was this ability to just… subconsciously do things related to his magic sensitivity?

Getting a headache just thinking about it, he shelved it for a rainy day and went back to healing Remus's fracture. Before he pulled out, he also got rid of the block he'd put on the werewolf's pain receptors. When the werewolf groaned, his eyes snapped open. "You alright, Remus?" he asked, concerned.

The werewolf smiled. "I'm fine, Cyrus. I just… hadn't realized how sore I was. My whole body is aching."

Cyrus nodded. "I'd try to heal you, but I think it's best we just let your body recover on its own. If this keeps up, though, I want you to get in touch with me, alright?" Conjuring a piece of paper and pen, he scribbled down his phone number. "This is better than owls. You should get one," he said with a grin.

Remus rolled his eyes. "I'd probably forget about it and step on it."

Cyrus shrugged. "Still. It's faster than owl. Just in case." He tacked it to the wall with a light sticking charm.

Remus watched him sleepily. "Are you going to stay?" he asked, yawning and shifting under his blankets.

The human frowned in thought, but eventually nodded. "Yeah. I think… I think I'll go get my homework, and come right back." He turned to the mediwitch. "How long are you going to stay?"

Katherine stared at him with wide, doe eyes, and Cyrus had to wonder what had put that look of admiration on her face. Was it because of the healing? "Of course. Remus is Alpha, and I'm going to make sure he heals up just fine." She smiled brightly.

Cyrus nodded. "I'll be right back." He disapparated with a quiet _crack_.

_oOo_

"Cyrus!" Tara shouted, jumping up from where she'd set herself up on his… bed.

"Tara. What the hell are you doing in my room? _Homework?_"

She grinned, flashing fang. " 'Course! Homework can be done anywhere, so I figured I'd wait until you came back. From the lack of red eyes and gloomy face, I'd say Remus is gonna live?"

Cyrus cracked a smile and nodded. "Yeah. Healer Svea helped out."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? You actually got him to go to Human Realm?? He avoids that place like the plague, you know."

The human frowned. "Really? Huh. That must be why I'm his errand boy now," he muttered, going over to his conjured desk and starting to pack up all his Runes homework. He still hadn't finished his assignment, and it was due tomorrow. At least tomorrow was Friday. Thank Merlin it was almost Friday. What a hellacious week.

"Errand boy? Oh, I see. You made a deal with him."

"Yeah," he murmured absent-mindedly, shuffling his papers together. What else was due tomorrow? Yankovich hadn't assigned anything. Neither had Instructor Catchpool. Eugh. He hated Animagus class. If he couldn't transform by the end of the year, he was going to have to take it _again_ or just drop the class. Catchpool insisted that almost everyone was capable of animagus transformation, with very few exceptions. Maybe he had just gotten the short end of the stick and was in the 'near-impossible' percentile.

Anyway. So all the homework he had to do was Runes… he still didn't think he was going to get it done that night. And if he _did_, most of the answers were going to be wrong. He just knew it. Transfiguration had always hated him, no matter what form it took.

"You leavin' already?" Tara asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Cyrus blinked. "Er, yeah. Remus is still recovering. I want to make sure he's alright."

She nodded, becoming serious. "Before you leave. Ashawyn came by, asking what happened. He also wanted your phone number."

Cyrus froze. "And? Did you give it to him?"

She shrugged. "I figured if you wanted him to know either, you would have told him." She paused. "How'd your date go?"

It was Cyrus's turn to shrug. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Tara raised an eyebrow. "That's not exactly a positive conclusion."

He shrugged again. "I dunno. He's… very intense."

She smirked. "That's 'cause he wants to fuck you."

Cyrus choked. "T-tara!"

Her lips widened into a cheshire grin. "What? I know plenty 'a people who wanna fuck you. You're hot for a human, you know. And it helps that magic practically cloaks you like heady cologne." A teasing glint brightened her eyes.

Cyrus spluttered. "T-too much information!"

Tara just laughed. "You comin' to school tomorrow?" she asked.

He nodded. "Unless something comes up. You going to stay in my room all night or something? Or were you just waiting for me?"

"Eh… actually, I'm kind of avoidin' someone. _And_ I wanted to know how your date went. Do you mind if I stick around? And you think you can open your trunk for me before you leave?"

Cyrus shrugged. "No, I don't really mind. It's not like I could force you to leave anyway." He threw his bag, now filled with homework and Runes reference texts, over his shoulder and crouched in front of his trunk. Placing his hand on the smooth metal lock, he commanded it to open. The lid swung back with a click. "See you tomorrow," he said, standing upright. Tara just waved with a smile, already sucked back into her book.

He disapparated with a _crack_.

_oOo_

Cyrus spent the rest of the evening pouring over his Runes homework, trying to get his assignment in a facsimile of order. He'd been picking away at the questions for a week now, and some of them still didn't make any sense. What was it about Transfiguration that was so illogical? Most magic had some kind of logical base if you looked deep enough, but this homework… he kept adding twos and getting sevens. It was driving him insane.

"Why don't you take a break?" Remus said softly, sipping a glass of water with Katherine's help. The human had to admit he still wasn't sure if she was actually competent, so he still didn't feel comfortable leaving the room in case Remus had a relapse, and he _still_ gave the werewolf a full diagnostic every twenty minutes despite the insulted expression on the mediwitch's face every time he did so.

"Break?" Cyrus repeated, surprised out of his thoughts. Looking down at the mess of notes on his conjured desk, he frowned. He hadn't really gotten much done in the last twenty minutes. Maybe he should cook dinner or something. Get his mind off everything. "You hungry?" he asked, getting up and running another diagnostic on Remus, as he had been doing every twenty minutes for the past three hours in spite of the fact that the mediwitch seemed to think herself competent enough to do so. She'd been giving him the evil eye, but seemed to have enough respect of his capabilities after watching him take over for Svea to not say anything. The human didn't really care about her opinion on the matter. He'd almost lost one of his guardians today, and if he had to bruise a little mediwitch pride to assure himself that Remus was recovering, then he was completely comfortable doing so.

"I am, actually," Remus said thoughtfully. "If you don't mind," he added with a smile.

Good old Remus. Always so polite. "Of course I don't." He turned to the mediwitch. "Have you eaten?"

Katherine shook her head.

"Alright. I'm sure you have something downstairs I can whip into a meal." He didn't feel comfortable leaving Remus alone so early in his recovery. And what if the mediwitch was a plant? She seemed like a nice enough woman, but you never really knew a person from first glance.

Half the vegetables in the fridge were looking down, but there was plenty of frozen meat in the icebox. Pulling it out, he defrosted it with a slow acting heating charm, pondering recent events as he tried to salvage what he could of the vegetables. So much had happened since Christmas. The night before the first day of class Yankovich had ambushed him, trying to get information about Voldemort, and later that week he'd found out that the demon's niecehad been captured. Then Cyrus had to help when the demon decided to 'acquiesce' to Voldemort's demands. The memory of Voldemort's face when the zombie army had turned on him had been priceless, though.

But if that hadn't been enough – he cut the carrots particularly viciously – Tara had thrown a life-threatening wrench into his life, almost getting him killed when she took him to a meeting with the Akkad interrogators, ACIF. She hadn't even told him about her Trial. She'd gotten captured after they stole Dalesh's body from an Akkad mansion, and Cyrus had had to go to Rivehn and promise him a debt in order to get her freed. Her trial had been the next day, Thursday, _today_, and she had taken him gallivanting off to steal a corpse of all things.

And then Ashawyn came traipsing back into Cyrus's life and cornered him into accepting a date. A date that hadn't actually gone as horribly as he'd worried, but still – he boiled the water in the pot with an aggravated jerk of his hand and tossed the carrots in – and now he had Yalmireth ignoring him.

It reminded him of the way Ron- _Weasley_, he mentally corrected, used to turn on him when something fucked up happened. The Weasel had always gotten pissed off that Harry got the attention and thrown in life-threatening situations instead of _him_. Maybe that should have been Cyrus's first clue that the teen wasn't exactly 'right' in the head. And why had the wizard resorted to Dark magic of all things? Did it have to do with the brains from the Ministry of Magic or had it been something deeper, something that he'd missed all those years being the redhead's friend?

Not that he would ever find out, now. Since Cyrus had _killed_ him with a giant, dead snake.

Pausing in his slicing, he stared down at his hands. Did he feel guilty about it? R- Weasley had been torturing Severus. The word that had spewed from his mouth were anything but innocent, aiming to hurt and anger. By the end of it… Weasley hadn't been the friend he'd gone through so much with.

So… no, he didn't feel guilty. He bit his lip. Did that make him a bad person? Did he… did he like this person he was turning into at Shikaan?

He had changed. Like Remus, he had changed to adapt to his new circumstances.

And he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Um, excuse me?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Cyrus turned his head to Katherine, who was standing cautiously in the doorway. "Yes?" he asked, turning back to the diced potatoes and tossing them into the boiling water too.

"Where is your tea set? Remus said he'd like a nice strong cuppa, and I have to admit I wouldn't mind one myself."

Cyrus waved a hand at the cupboard and moved the tea set to the kitchen table as he filled the kettle with water from the tap. Not wanting her in his space any longer than possible, he forwent heating it the natural way and just used magic to bring the liquid inside to a boil. "Tea's on the counter," he said shortly, ignoring her wide eyes and turning back to the food. The steaks had thawed, so he removed the warming spell on them. He'd cook them rare when the vegetables were almost finished.

"Wow. You are indeed a powerful wizard," she chatted, and Cyrus could hear her as she poured the tealeaves into the strainer that sat on top of the teapot. "You use wandless magic so carelessly. Doesn't it take a lot of magic to cast spells that way? I heard only the most powerful of wizards can learn how."

Cyrus frowned. "What? No. I mean, sure, it's easier with a wand, but it only takes more magic to cast wandless if you don't have very good control and you use too much and waste it. Anyone can learn. I only started at the end of this summer."

She gasped, and Cyrus glanced over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised in irritation at the cow-eyed look of surprise on her face. Really. She was such a… He paused. He'd been about to call her a human. Magical humans were so… lacking in common sense. Perhaps after spending so much time with beings that had grown up in Other Realm he was beginning to adopt their beliefs through social osmosis.

It was a disconcerting thought.

"Really? You mean, even I could learn how?"

Uncomfortable with the way she looked at him in awe, Cyrus shrugged and turned back to the vegetables. "Yeah. You just have to be patient and not try to force the magic to work the way you _think _it should, and instead focus just on what you want to happen. For something without conscious thought, magic is a lot smarter than you think."

She made gasps of 'why I never' and hummed thoughtfully to herself as she took cream from the fridge and took the tray upstairs.

When she was finally gone, Cyrus let out a sigh of relief, returning to the mindless motions of preparing dinner.

They were almost finished eating when Severus returned with the _crack_ of apparition, startling Cyrus enough to knock his empty plate off his desk. He cleaned up the broken dish with a thought, placing an immobilizing charm on his homework and moving the desk over to the wall.

He didn't want to get blood on all his hard work. And there was a _lot_ of blood. The man Severus held by the shoulder was covered in it, and the mediwitch gasped and backpedalled into the corner to get as far away from him as she could.

Cyrus was getting more annoyed by her by the second. How had she survived in a werewolf pack so far?

"Tell your Alpha what you told me, Perry," Severus snarled, tightening his grip on the werewolf's shoulder and eliciting a grunt of pain.

The Were spat out a mouthful of blood with a sneer. "You should be dead," he bit out, bearing his teeth. "You are not fit to be-" Severus's fist smashing into his face cut off his acrid words.

"If you refuse to keep a civil tongue, I will cut it out and cauterize the wound so you cannot bleed to death. Now. Speak."

Seeing Remus trying to sit upright, Cyrus moved forward and helped, seeing as the mediwitch was too useless to do even that. Remus gave him a short nod of acknowledgement, but most of his attention was on the werewolf kneeling at the side of his bed. "Perry Witacre," he barked out once the pillow had been settled at his back. "Somehow I'm not surprised it was you that resorted to poisoning your own Alpha instead of making a challenge. You never were very… honorable. You are a pitiful excuse for a werewolf."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. Wow. Remus was good. Perry didn't react at all, but the bumbling pile of goo behind him told him all he needed to know. Remus was actually learning how to be a _leader_. A true Alpha. And the waves of authority coming off him would have cowed Cyrus as well if they had been aimed at him.

When Perry said nothing, Severus tightened his grip on the werewolf's shoulder. "Where did you get the poison?" the vampire growled.

Perry winced in pain as the Potions Master's fingers dug into what was probably an open wound. "D-death Eaters. Got it… from Death Eaters. I don't wh-where they got it from."

"And what about the contents of the poison? It was not just silver. They cut it with Wolfsbane and something else."

"I- I don't know. I was just told… that it would k-kill him slowly, and p-painfully."

If Severus's eyes narrowed any farther they be closed. "Indeed. And did you believe that such an act would go unpunished?"

The werewolf snarled. "I was to be rewarded! I would be the new Alpha, and we would join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and finally werewolves would be respected!"

Remus scoffed. "There is no respect with Voldemort. He expects you to obey him without question, and when you have outlived your usefulness, he kills you. You are a fool, Perry, for buying into his propaganda and turning against the Alpha who _is_ fighting for our rights and freedom."

Severus squeezed again, as if to prove a point. "Are you finished with this driveling piece of refuse, Remus? Once I kill him I am going to find who supplied such a poison and kill them as well."

The werewolf nodded and watched with emotionless eyes as Perry was dragged, screaming, from the room. Cyrus cleaned up the blood with a wave of his hand before it could stain the wood floors and helped Remus recline again, trying not to think about the way Perry was going to painfully die that night. Hopefully Severus would use silencing charms.

As soon as they couldn't hear the werewolf anymore, Remus finally relaxed, tension leaving his body.

Cyrus ran another full diagnostic, wanting to make sure the stress hadn't upset anything. Aside from his tension and the slight shaking of his muscles as a result of exhaustion, Remus was still doing fine. Most of the tissue damage was healing nicely, and at the rate he was going he would be fine in another few days or so.

"Sleep, Remus," Cyrus said, using magic to gently maneuver the werewolf until he was laying flat. The Alpha looked annoyed, but resigned to his fate.

"I still can't believe that Perry would-"

"Later, Remus. Right now you need to sleep. Tomorrow you can get the gruesome details and worry about everything else, okay? Do I need to knock you out with a spell?"

Lips twitching upwards in a smile, the werewolf shook his head. "That's not necessary," he said with a yawn. "I'm pretty… tired… as it is…" he trailed off, eyes closing as he fell asleep.

So what if Cyrus hadn't actually been making a question of it? It was hardly a sin to push Remus over the edge with a spell. He really did need his rest.

Casting a quick tempus, he stared in surprise at the floating numbers. Was it really nearly midnight? Yawning, having been reminded of his own exhaustion, he gathered up his homework and attached the sheets together with a conjured staple. He'd done as much as he could with the assignment, and he wasn't going to get much more done that night. It was time to cut his losses.

"Wake me up if he shows any changes or wakes up, alright?" he said, casting a monitoring charm just in case. It would wake him up if anything changed, but some things could be missed that the mediwitch might catch. It was always a good idea to have a back up plan.

"Of course," she said, having pulled herself out of her corner and taken a silent vigil at Remus's bedside, shakily pouring herself another cup of tea.

Cyrus took himself to his old room, dragging his feet as exhaustion caught up with him. He tried not to think of how long and horrible a day he'd just had, but it was difficult.

Hopefully tomorrow would be a bit better.

_-Toki Mirage-_

_(cough)_ Well… **surprise!!** … _(crickets chirp)_ … Yeah… I'd say I'm pretty much utterly and irreversibly addicted to this bugger. _(kicks a can labeled 'BS')_ Anywho… I can't say whether there will be more updates or not… Because I'm unpredictable even to myself, obviously, as I didn't even think I'd write this chapter until Xmas…

_(whistles)_

What else is there to say? Thanks go to **Roos**, once again, for being the most awesomest Muse EVER. Y'all owe her for this chapter. If she hadn't phoned me up and said 'Hey Mirage, I wanna muse chapter eighteen,' and I reluctantly agreed, _(dramatic announcer voice) _this chapter would not be here today.

I'd also like to thank **Evy** for the B-day prezzie! (glomps) Consider this an early B-day present, or a belated one if we already missed it. :P

**BS Podfic CHP 3 is UP** thanks to the awesome **Istalindir**, podfic editor extraordinaire. I have two others helping out so far, but Istalindir has returned three chapters to me, and is working on a fourth. If you listen to my podfics, please thank her for time well wasted! :)

I dunno if I told you all, but **R/Y PODSMUT IS POSTED.** Details on my profile.

**_Check out the Forum for unanswered questions about BS. I may not always answer if it gives away spoilers, but often I will throw you some kind of bone._** _This includes the pairing. Info is in the Forum._


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Captured Snake

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

**WARNING:** There is violent and gory material in this chapter that earns this story its rating of M for Mature audiences. Chances are if you've stuck with me for this long, however, that this is just your cup of tea.

_oOo_

Chapter Nineteen:

_oOo_

Cyrus sat at their table in the Main Hall and let his head fall forward and connect with wood. Runes class had been a disaster. Just like he expected. Thankfully, no one else in the class had done better than him, and Rivehn had basically written off the assignment as 'practice'. They had a new assignment now, based off the old one, and so the hell started aaall over again. It was never ending. All he wanted was a short break, a reprieve from the hell he'd been through for the past two weeks, and did he get it? No. Remus got poisoned by Voldemort, and Cyrus had to go back to _class_.

Katherine was with the werewolf, making sure he was recovering nicely – which he was. Thank Merlin. Cyrus had still placed a monitoring charm on him, though, not a hundred percent sure the mediwitch was competent or trust worthy yet. Though, Remus seemed to think she was loyal. Otherwise she probably would have been kicked out already. Cyrus had wanted to stay with him for lunch, but the werewolf had sent him back to school with a chastising eyebrow, stating that he was doing fine and that Cyrus was already spending too much time at Spinner's End.

Eugh. He lifted his head from the table and let it drop again, hoping he would get lucky and the blunt trauma would knock him unconscious. He was beginning to wish he'd just said 'fuck it' and skipped today, regardless of the Runes assignment due, and stayed with Remus, even thought the werewolf would lecture him. Maybe he'd stop if Cyrus took him along on a vacation to Tahiti. They could both use a day off life.

"What's up, Cy? You disappeared after Runes ended lookin' a little depressed," Xanthir said cheerfully, clapping him on the back.

Flinching slightly at the touch, Cyrus groaned as all the tense muscles in his back tightened even more and started a pressure headache behind his eyes. Weapons and Battle class hadn't been pleasant either. Ouragan had all the humans doing strength training so their bodies would be capable of executing the moves he was teaching them, so his entire body felt like lead and ached unpleasantly. "Rivehn is evil," he muttered into his arms. It came out completely muffled.

"What?"

He pulled his face off the table and glared slightly at the werewolf, bringing a hand up to try to massage some of the tension out of his neck. He was soaking in a hot bath tonight for an hour. Period. "Rivehn is evil."

The orange-haired ball of energy grimaced. "Aaah. I agree. He gave us an assignment almost exactly the same as the last!"

Cyrus grunted.

"Uh huh," the werewolf continued. "It _sucks_. I know we haven't gotten our marks back yet, but I _know_ I failed." He sighed. "Maybe the second time 'round we'll do better."

Cyrus glared half-heartedly at him. "Riiight." His mind wasn't really on the class anymore as he put his elbow on the table and planted his chin in his hand, staring listlessly at the menu in front of him. Really, he was starting to just not care. About classes, or vampires, or Yalmireth, or Ashawyn, or… Seeing that Xanthir had already ordered, he pushed such thoughts out of his head and browsed his own menu.

Yalmireth sat down at that moment in the seat directly across from Cyrus, instead of next to him as per usual. Xanthir got a funny look on his face as the demon said nothing and ordered his lunch.

"What's up, Yal?" the werewolf asked after an awkward silence, leaning forward. "You're lookin' a little down today, too."

Yalmireth said nothing, not even looking up from the plate that had appeared.

Cyrus's eyes narrowed, feeling an irrational anger cut through his listless fog. What the fuck was the demon's problem? "So what, now you won't speak to Xanthir _either?_ What crawled up your ass and died?" the human snapped, trying to quell his anger by turning his attention back to the menu in his hands. He stabbed at the Nashvenath he saw in the fae section, and a plate of red noodles appeared in front of him with a side of the fae version of a fruit salad. Pushing the noodles around on his plate with angry movements, he contemplated just leaving the Main Hall all together. He didn't want to deal with Yalmireth anymore.

Now Xanthir was looking at them both funny. After an awkward silence, he muttered unintelligibly under his breath and fixed his eyes to his plate, pretending that the tension level hadn't just skyrocketed.

Finally, as Cyrus's magic started crackling in the air due to his ire, Yalmireth looked up with his mouth open, paused, and then glared. "So now you are eating fae dishes as well as sucking fae cock?"

The food that Cyrus had angrily shoved into his mouth sprayed across the table in utter stupefaction. Choking, he gaped at the demon sitting across from him. "E-excuse me?!"

Xanthir stared.

The demon raised a derisive eyebrow. "You heard me. That fae had his hands all over you yesterday."

Cyrus spluttered for a good ten seconds, at a complete loss for what to say, but then the anger from before returned and churned in stomach. His fists clenched in surprise, and he put his fork down before he was tempted to melt it into a misshapen ball of scrap metal. "What- Fuck, Yalmireth! What's gotten into you?! First you ignore me all class yesterday, and now you say... say… things like that! What the hell?!"

Yalmireth's expression was inscrutable. "Well, are you?"

Cyrus let out an incredulous, short breath. "It's none of your goddamned business if I'm socking cock, let alone _whose_ cock I'm sucking! If I even WERE su- You know what. I can't even fucking believe we're having this conversation in the first place. What _right_ do you have to-"

"So you are fucking him."

"How- you- it was just a goddamn kiss!" he shouted, his anger coming to a boil and just exploding out of him as he slammed his fist down onto the table.

It broke.

The force of Cyrus's attack cracked the circular table down the center, the middle collapsing along the fault line while the edges flew upwards like what happens when you step on a pitchfork and it smacks you in the face. Xanthir managed to dodge before it could clip him, and Yalmireth's wings pulled him backwards, knocking his chair over in the process…

But Cyrus wasn't so lucky. One of the sharp edges of the table slammed into his kneecap, cracking it painfully. Swearing, he used his good leg to propel himself backwards, nearly falling over his chair in surprise. As it were, he didn't fall _over_ the chair so much as off the side of it, hitting the ground with a painful thump. Cursing under his breath at the dual pain in his kneecap and now his ass, as well as the whole fucked up situation he found himself in, his anger exploded again in a burst of magic and sent the table up in flames. It burned to a pile of ash and coal instantly.

"You alright, Cyrus?" Xanthir asked in concern, having moved from his safe distance to Cyrus's side once the fire finished off the table.

The human muttered 'fuck' over and over again under his breath. "No," he grimaced, sending healing magic into his knee. "Fuck," he said again. "I broke the kneecap. And cracked my femur. Fucking _great_." The pain was starting to get so bad that he had to just block all pain receptors to his brain, otherwise he was going to burst into tears of pain in sheer frustration. Besides, if he couldn't concentrate, he wasn't going to be able to fix anything. Sending his healing magic to his knee, he put all the pieces back together like a jigsaw, healed the breaks, reattached the ligaments, and made sure that the cap wasn't rubbing anything the wrong way when he moved it. It grated a bit when he practiced bending it, so he made a quick adjustment before trying again and deciding it would be okay.

Finished with the immediate distraction, he had to bring himself back to the real world. What the fuck had happened with the table? He wasn't physically strong enough to break it, so he must have used his magic subconsciously… but he hadn't _felt_ any magic chan-

"You alright, Cyrus?" Xanthir asked again.

The human, who had been staring blankly at the pile of ash on the floor, blinked and nodded, letting the werewolf help him to his feet. Yalmireth was still standing on the other side of the table, indecision scrunching the muscles in his brow. After a moment, he turned and walked away.

Cyrus glared at his back. "Sure, run like a coward," he muttered under his breath, but either Yalmireth couldn't hear him or had chosen to ignore him. Again.

"Uuum, Cyrus? What the hell was that?" Xanthir asked, watching Yalmireth stalk away.

The human grunted, having just removed the block on his pain receptors. "Fuck if I know. He saw Ashawyn kissing me yesterday during lunch, and then he refused to talk to me all Wandless Magic class. Has he _ever_ been an asshole like that to you before?"

The werewolf hummed thoughtfully under his breath. "Nope. I'd say he's jealous. And I was actually referring to-"

"Jealous? What the hell is he jealous about?" Cyrus snapped, mind having zeroed in on the word.

Xanthir raised an eyebrow. "Never thought I'd have to say this to you, Cyrus, but use your _brain_."

The human floundered for a moment before it clicked, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "No… no fucking way."

The werewolf nodded. "Yep. I could smell it on him. I've never seen him so pissed. I mean, he's like calm and anti social for two months we know him, and then he goes off like this? Usually he's so… calm. Blank. Now he's pissed and blank. Kinda creepy, if you ask me."

"What's creepy?" Tara asked, walking over to them. Glancing around them for the first time, Cyrus saw heads turning away and sighed. Great. And then Tara saw the pile of ashes on the floor and raised an eyebrow. "What'd I miss?"

Cyrus just let out a sigh and conjured a new table, vanishing the remains of the old one. He was seriously considering that vacation to Tahiti.

_oOo_

Tara found the whole situation terribly amusing, which annoyed Cyrus to no end. Every time she looked at him now, she'd get this look on her face and eventually dissolve into cackling laughter. He'd actually cursed her a few times, but being a graduated student of Shikaan, she avoided it every time. He was going to plan the most evil prank he could think of. Pink would be involved.

Well, if he could actually hit her. Which he probably couldn't. But still, he could dream…

And Yalmireth. The demon had a _crush_ on him? He… Cyrus hadn't even considered the demon in that way. Sure, Yalmireth was… attractive, he supposed, but… He hadn't clouded Cyrus's every thought like Ashawyn did. And he was usually so… quiet. Unobtrusive. Well, aside from that time he had shoved Cyrus into a wall and declared his undying friendship. Where had that speech of "I'm your friend, of course I care," gone to, anyway, he wondered bitterly.

Shaking his head free of his confused thoughts, he plopped down into his seat at the back of the class in Necromancy and waited for the teacher to show up. He wanted to go back to Spinners End and sleep he was so fed up with everything. Unfortunately, just before he could change his mind and skip out anyway, Mikhail strode through the doorway at a brisk pace, gray robes and white hair billowing. Ashawyn, following close behind, gave Cyrus a small wave and the human reciprocated half-heartedly.

The elf came to a stop at the front of the classroom. "For those of you who are unaware, Yankovich has contracted me to cover the Monday and Friday classes he will be missing for the next few weeks. To my side is my apprentice, Ashawyn Thalla. He will be assisting me during class." Mikhail reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and began to read. "Apparently you are currently working on multiple, simultaneous raisings." His eyebrows rose as he continued down the sheet. "And 'Cyrus Obsidian is to use salt circles far away from the rest of the group, as he is a walking hazard…' " The elf cocked an eyebrow and looked up to meet Cyrus's eyes.

The human, meanwhile, turned red in embarrassment and tried to ignore the snickers of the rest of the class. Zirala turned around in his seat and smirked, mouthing 'loser'.

Cyrus just barely resisted the urge to turn him orange. Someone had to be the mature one.

Mikhail pulled out his wand and conjured a rope, turning it into a portkey a moment later. The class hurried forward to grab it, and Cyrus ignored the eyes on him as he reached for the rope as well. They disappeared with a twisting sensation not unlike being thrown in the middle of a tornado.

He hated portkeys.

Thankfully, the trip was relatively short. He still managed to fall on his ass though. Most of the humans in the class could land on their feet, but after Cyrus fell every time the nonhumans stopped noticing. Or caring. He wasn't sure whether to be thankful for that or annoyed.

Sometimes it just infuriated him the way some nonhumans looked at him. Like he wasn't worth notice. Like he wasn't considered a _threat_ because he didn't have fangs or wings or claws. They wrote humans off as if they were lesser beings incapable of intelligent thought just because they were physically weaker. It wasn't like being incapable of punching through a wall could stop a human from poisoning you or firing an Avada Kedavra.

There were more creative ways to kill a person after all…

"You will all use the proper protective procedures, not just Mr. Obsidian. I have no patience for fools and flesh eating inferi. If you make an error it should be _you _that is eaten alive. If you have to leave for salt, you fail this class. As necromancers you should always have salt on your person, regardless of whether or not you plan to be raising any inferi. Any questions? No? Good. Spread out through the graveyard and begin. Mr. Obsidian, please remain behind."

Cyrus sighed and ignored the looks the rest of the class gave him – again. Really. It wasn't like his being incompetent in this class was a surprise. They should just get over themselves.

"Please explain to me why Yankovich believes you to be a hazard in this class," the elf said simply, crossing his arms in front of him and slipping his hands into the sleeves. Ashawyn stood off to the side, a curious expression on his face.

Cyrus tried to ignore how the proximity to the fae was already starting to fog his thoughts. "My control… it's… lacking," he said lamely, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Mikhail raised a cool eyebrow. "Indeed. And why would he consider you a hazard for this reason?"

Cyrus stared at the intricate broach on the elf's robes to avoid his eyes. "The time I tried to raise more than one zombie at the same time they went flesh eating."

Hearing Ashawyn gasp softly, he turned to the ice fae with an annoyed frown. Seeing the sympathetic expression there, he wasn't sure whether to feel better or even more pathetic. He went with the latter.

"I see. Perhaps if I observe I may be able to help? Has Yankovich himself done anything to fix this… problem?"

Cyrus shrugged. "We were doing private lessons for a while, but he stopped them. Said I had to learn how to raise dead animals, and that when I could make a dead fly dance in the air he'd finally start tutoring me again."

Mikhail snorted softly. "Only Yankovich would believe such a low form of necromancy would be the solution."

Cyrus blinked and frowned. "What?"

"There are many methods to refining control. Do you have problems summoning small amounts of _yelien_ or is it that your focus is lacking when you raise them?"

The human frowned. "What's yelien?"

Mikhail said nothing for a moment before turning to Ashawyn. "What is the human translation? I do not often discuss these matters outside the Guild."

"Death magic, Master," Ashawyn answered with a serene expression.

"Ah. They did not create a new word for it? How… bland."

Cyrus didn't like slight sneer in his tone.

"Very well. Now that you understand, Mr. Obsidian, if you could answer the question?"

The human nodded, fists slightly clenched in his pockets. "I can draw on small amounts, and large amounts, but nothing in the middle."

The elf actually blinked, and Cyrus wondered if he was surprised. "And what exactly do you mean by that? Why are you unable to pull moderate quantities of _yelien_ from your core?"

"Er…" Cyrus wished Yankovich were teaching instead. He wasn't sure he felt comfortable explaining his magical ineptitudes to this guy. "Well, I can draw on small amounts when my magic fills my channels, but if I want to do more than raise one zo- inferi, I have to swap my cores."

Mikhail got a very interested glint in his eyes. "Indeed? Demonstrate," he said, walking closer. When Cyrus took a confused step back, he frowned, impatience thinning his lips. "I need to have physical contact to feel the flow of your _yelien_, human. Please choose a grave and stand still." He turned to Ashawyn, who was still watching curiously. He snapped something out in a language Cyrus didn't recognize and the Apprentice left with a disappointed frown. Had the elf sent him to watch the rest of the class?

When Cyrus had been standing there for too long, Mikhail narrowed his eyes. "Well? Go on."

The creepy crawly sensation was getting worse as the elf got closer to him, and Cyrus tried to push the memories of Macnair out of his mind. He didn't like the way the elf was looking at him. Like he was… a hunk of meat, or something. Shivering slightly, he sent out his senses for a body not too old and walked over to the grave. Pulling out his salt, he maneuvered it into a circle with a wave of his hand around where the zombie would come out of the ground. Next, he created a second circle within the first. He didn't take chances anymore.

When the elf's hand landed on his shoulder, he flinched and actually scrambled three steps away before he knew what he was doing. Turning red in embarrassment at the unimpressed look on Mikhail's face, he swallowed, steeled his nerves, and moved back into the circle, fixing the line that he'd broken.

How the fuck was he going to concentrate with the man's hands on him? He kept reminding Cyrus of Macnair.

Feeling nauseous when the hand touched him again, he closed his eyes for a moment and just sank into his magic, where he couldn't feel those hands on his shoulders. Only taking a few moments to gather his courage, he rejoined the real world and pulled a thread of death magic up from under his core. Sending it out of his body, he kept the thread connected to the core under his core just as Yankovich had taught them months ago. Wrapping it around the dead body in the ground, he raised it from the ground.

It came up without a hitch, but once Cyrus focused on the real world again it took him every shred of his iron will to keep it the tenuous connection from snapping. Focusing his eyes on the zombie in front of him, he tried to remind himself that this was _not_ Macnair, but it didn't stop the phantom hands from caressing the lines of his chest and trailing down to his-

"Good. Your focus is weak, however. You would do better to concentrate when raising an inferi."

'That's because I can't _concentrate_ with your grubby hands all over me!' he mentally snapped, clenching his jaw to keep the words from spewing from his mouth.

"Release it and demonstrate a raising using larger quantities, now," Mikhail commanded.

Cyrus swallowed. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, P-professor," he said, light headed.

The hands on his shoulders tightened. "And why is that, human?" the low voice came darkly in his ear.

Cyrus felt like he was going to puke. "T-the rest of the class. If I lose control, they might get hurt."

"You will do as I say. If they have followed instructions and have used salt, they will be protected. Now. Demonstrate."

Swallowing and breathing slowly, trying to keep his stomach down, he did as he was instructed and sucked all his magic back into his core, sloppily. He could see a few odd magical discharges from his body through his half-closed eyes, but ignored them and forced all the magic back into his core. Then, he let lose the mental 'latch' on his death magic and staggered as it filled him to the brim. Riding the wave like a rider trying to bring their horse under control, he sent his the death magic out into the graveyard around him. It filled them all. Every body not already filled with death magic, it entered and brought to the surface. This time, Cyrus had the presence of mind to not let it roam completely free, and kept the threads connected to his core before they could break off and go out of control. It was… it was actually easier to keep a handle on them all when he didn't have to worry about all his death magic just exploding out of him without a warning. Now that the core wasn't fit to overflow, his death magic settled comfortably around him.

Now if only Mikhail would stop squeezing his shoulders and just _let go_.

His death magic surged around him and the elf pulled back with a gasp. Letting out a shaking, relieved breath, he stumbled away from the elf and turned around so his back wasn't to Mikhail. Now that he had a good view, he saw that the zombies had congregated near them and stared at Mikhail like he was a piece of meat. But they didn't attack.

Mikhail was smiling, gray eyes gleaming. "Fascinating," he muttered to himself, observing the zombies that watched him as if they posed no threat. He continued to speak to himself in something that was definitely _not_ English.

"Wow, Cyrus," Ashawyn said, pushing his way cautiously through the throng of bodies. "That was quite the surge of death magic. I was there when you helped power raising a thousand zombies, but _still_." He whistled, a bright grin on his face as stepped into the safety of the salt circle.

Mikhail snapped out of his musings with a frown. "Ashawyn. I thought I told you to watch the other students?"

Ashawyn shrugged. "As soon as they felt Cyrus's death magic they all just _left_. One of them muttered something about not wanting to be eaten alive."

Mikhail's eyebrows rose, and he turned to Cyrus, who was taking in slow steady breaths and trying not to throw up at the sensation of hands still burning on his shoulders. How long would it take for the sensation to _end_ already? And leave him alone? He fucking hated this feeling. Of helplessness, and being sick to his stomach at touch. He'd never been very touchy feely before he came to Shikaan, but he'd never been ready to upchuck after having a stranger – an _adult_ stranger touch him like that.

"Mr. Obsidian? Why do you think they left?"

Cyrus swallowed. "Probably because last time I raised a graveyard they almost got eaten?"

A glint entered those eyes again, and Cyrus felt his skin crawl. "Interesting. And yet this time you kept them in your control. How?"

Cyrus shrugged. "I don't know. It was just… easier. Once my death magic just exploded, it seemed to… calm? Like it didn't need to… 'get out' anymore." He purposely left out the fact that the first time it had happened he'd been so surprised

Mikhail nodded. "Yes. That is understandable. If you do not exercise your magic often enough, it begins to overflow and becomes restless. It is understandable that the same thing occurs with your death magic. Perhaps instead of raising animals as Yankovich has told you," he sneered slightly, "it would be wiser to expend your _yelien_ more often so that it does not overflow?"

The human wasn't sure it was a good idea not to do what Yankovich told him to do. He could do both, couldn't he? What did Mikhail have against raising dead animals? Or was it Yankovich that he had a problem with? During the whole Marianna fiasco Cyrus hadn't gotten the impression that the two liked each other. "Er… I guess so. That would make sense," he said noncommittally when it seemed the elf was waiting for a response.

"Um, Master Mikhail? I believe the period is going to end in the next fifteen minutes, and with the rest of the class absent, there's really no point in keeping Cyrus here, right?" Ashawyn asked with a nervous half-smile. Cyrus found it odd that the ice fae could be so self-assured with him and then become so cautious around Mikhail.

But then he saw the severe, annoyed look on Mikhail's face and decided that it wasn't so odd.

"Why should I end a class when there is still one student willing to learn?"

Cyrus grasped the possible escape with two hands. "Actually, professor, I really do need to go." When Mikhail turned those cold eyes on him, he flinched slightly but managed to cover it with a nervous shuffle. "I- my guardian is sick right now, and I normally don't have much time between classes, and it's going to take me around ten minutes to put all these zo- inferi back in the ground anyway."

Mikhail watched him in silence for a moment, making the creepy crawly feeling return. Finally, he spoke. "Very well. You may begin."

Cyrus felt a twitch of irritation. 'You may begin?' The elf made it sound like Cyrus was- was- like he needed the elf's _permission_ or something.

He was really beginning to dislike Mikhail. Actually, it went beyond dislike. Maybe it was irrational, but he just felt downright hostile towards the man. It wasn't just his attitude; it was… something else.

Pushing it out of his thoughts, he set about putting the zombies back in the ground. He had to start with ones and twos, but by the time he'd put the whole graveyard back in the ground, he could put ten in at a time, which was an improvement compared to the last time. As soon as he was done, he drew all his death magic back into its core and let his magic flow freely again.

Seeing Mikhail still watching him, he bit his lip. "Well… thanks for the lesson, Professor," he said quickly before disapparating, ignoring when Ashawyn tried to say something to him. He didn't really want to deal with the ice fae at that moment. He just wanted _away_.

_oOo_

He ended up skipping Animagus class all together, not wanting to deal with another hour of frustration and meditation while most of the class was learning how to transform their hands and feet. Remus was doing a lot better after a full night of sleep. He'd been awake since before lunch, reading books from Severus's extensive library and napping on and off.

When Cyrus showed up, the werewolf raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his book. "Cyrus? I thought you had another class?"

The human grunted and plopped down onto the chair next to the werewolf's bed. A quick scan showed everything to be healing up nicely – Remus would just be tired and short of energy for a few days. "Has Katherine been feeding you?"

Remus looked annoyed. "Yes, Cyrus. I'm doing fine. You needn't be so protective."

Cyrus looked up at him sharply from where he'd been spacing out at the sheets. "You almost died, Remus. I think I've earned the right to worry. I know _exactly_ how close you were to… to kicking the can, yesterday."

Amber eyes softened and Remus put down his book. "You did a wonderful job healing me, Cyrus. But you shouldn't neglect your education."

The human scowled. "It's just Animagus class. I'm probably going to fail it anyway."

Now the werewolf looked alarmed. "What? Fail?"

Cyrus stared stubbornly down at his hands. "Yeah. I can't find my form. No amount of meditation helps. I'm thinking that if I still don't manage by the end of this year, I'm just going to drop it and go with something else."

Remus blinked. "Well… that's odd. It only took your father and Sirius a few months to find it. You've been doing this for… what? Since September?" When the human nodded, he frowned. "I had been under the impression that learning how to transform was the harder part. You have no idea whatsoever?"

"No," Cyrus muttered, staring miserably down at his hands. Thank Merlin it was Friday. He was looking forward to having the weekend to himself. Aside from his training and Runes homework, he had no other homework. In Wandless Magic he'd managed all the spells, and in Dark Arts and Their Defense they had been given a project that they had a month to finish, so he wasn't even worrying about that yet… and then Healing. He had a test on Tuesday, but it was practical.

"Cyrus?"

The human snapped out of his thoughts. "What?"

Remus looked concerned. "I was asking what you were thinking of taking next year if you weren't going to-" Remus gasped and reached into his shirt, surprising Cyrus into sitting upright. The werewolf pulled out a stone on a chain and held it in his hand, suddenly very pale, sitting upright and throwing the sheets off his legs.

"Remus? What's wrong? What's with the rock? And you shouldn't be getting out of bed, you're still recovering!"

"I-it's… Severus. He's been… he's injured. And before he fell unconscious I felt- He's in trouble." The werewolf grunted and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Cyrus stared. "Wait, what? The rock told you that?"

"After Severus got kidnapped during Christmas by Fenrir, we decided that it was a good idea to get some sort of linking objects that could tell us if the other was injured or in trouble. It's how Severus knew I was poisoned and retrieved me so quickly. And- and now it's telling me that he's in danger."

Cyrus took in a huge breath, held it, and let it out. 'Here we go again,' he thought to himself, resigned, his muscles already tensing in preparation for what was to come. "Still. Get your ass back in bed, right now," he ordered as sternly as he could. When the werewolf gave him a weird look, he tried his best to imitate Pomfrey. "You're entire body has just gone through a huge trauma, Remus. Every single cell in your body has been damaged by the poison, and magic can't heal everything! Even if you can walk more than ten feet, are you going to be any help? No. So let me take care of it."

The man floundered for a moment, staring at Cyrus like he'd grown tentacles on his face or something. "Cyrus, I can't just sit here and do nothing."

"Yes, you can. And you will. Even if I have to steal your wand, put a permanent sticking charm on you, and take Katherine out of the wards and kick her out so she doesn't help you get yourself killed. _Again_. I can do this. Do you even know where he is?"

Remus sat on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, staring down at the floor. "I, yes, I do, but he might not be there for much longer."

"Can you show me a memory of the location so I can apparate?"

The werewolf nodded. "Yes- Severus, he keeps a pensieve. I-I think it's downstairs in his study."

Cyrus nodded and stood up. "Alright. I'm going to go get it. You, keep that arse in bed or I will glue you to it. If you disapparate on me, so help me, I will break your legs so you can't walk."

Remus's eyes widened and a guilty expression crossed his face. Seeing it, Cyrus's eyes narrowed, and before Remus could so much as twitch he put his hand on the man's shoulder and sent a burst of magic to the base of his spine, basically making him a temporary paraplegic. Remus smacked his hand away and tried to stand. Seeing that his legs were paralyzed, his eyes widened before turning amber with anger. "You can't keep me from my mate!" he snarled.

"I can and I will. You are in no condition to go anywhere," Cyrus barked, moving out of the werewolf's reach when he made a grab for him. "Stay here," he ordered before going downstairs to get the pensieve, if it was even there. Remus might have lied to get him to leave the room.

When he reached the door, he tried to open it and was shocked. Scowling at the pure paranoia that was Snape, he activated his Rune sight and 'cut' the anchor temporarily like he had done in Dumbledore's office. Mentally holding it in place so it didn't break apart and dissipate (or activate), he let out a relieved breath when he saw the pensieve sitting on a small table by the wall. Seeing no memories inside, he grabbed it and went back upstairs, putting the ward back in place before he did.

Remus was on the floor, glaring at his legs when Cyrus got there. Rolling his eyes at the man's tenacity, the human wandlessly moved him back into the bed without coming within reach. He didn't want a claw to clip him, after all. Next he floated the pensieve over to him. "Well?"

Remus glared at him and pulled his wand. Cyrus prepared for an attack, but the werewolf just put it to his head and pulled out a memory. Cyrus left the room to view it just in case Remus tried to kill him while he was helpless. It only took a moment, and after burning the image into his head he went back into the bedroom. "I'm going to go check it out. Don't bother asking Katherine to fix your legs. She won't know how." Actually, he didn't know if she knew how or not, but she hadn't seemed to know what he was talking about earlier with blocking the pain impulses to Remus's brain, so he was taking a gamble.

The werewolf let out an angry huff and muttered, "Good luck."

Cyrus nodded, cast a slew of spells on himself to hid him from all senses he might encounter, and disapparated with a silent displacement of air. Normally he didn't bother putting the concentration into silent apparition, but he didn't want to fuck this up.

_oOo_

Cyrus closed his eyes and leaned back into the shadow, trying to comprehend exactly how fucked he was. The house he was scouting wasn't really a house, per se; it was more like a fortress disguised as a mansion. Muggles with machine guns patrolled the grounds, snipers sat in wait on the roof, _and_ the outside walls were at least six meters tall. Cyrus had had to apparate onto the ledge of a business building a few blocks away and use a magnifying charm on his eyes in order to even see that much. After the time he'd infiltrated Hogwarts and discovered himself sadly lacking in any useful spells, he'd written up a list of shit he needed to learn and worked on it during his free time. The binocular eyes were one of them.

Somehow, he didn't think he had anything in his arsenal that would help him break into this fortress undetected. Once you got past the machine guns and snipers and rottweilers, there were also the wards on the house itself. Which brought into question whether the owner of said house was actually a muggle. Why, though, if they were magical, would they pay for muggle security guards? And how did the guns work so close to such a high concentration of magic?

It was troubling because it meant he was missing something critical. Severus was a magical vampire. He had a year of Shikaan under his belt as well as the training he went through to be a Death Eater. Who or what had managed to get the drop on him and capture him?

There was no way he was going to get in there on his own. He didn't even know who owned the building, let alone what he might be up against once he got past the visible security.

Letting out a breath, he disapparated to Shikaan.

Tara, thankfully, was in his room when he apparated without a sound, and actually startled enough by his appearance to knock over the pile of books sitting on the desk near his bookshelf that he had conjured and left there yesterday.

"Cyrus! Make a little nose when you pop in, eh? I coulda mistaken you for someone else and knifed you."

To the human's surprise, she was indeed holding a knife in her hand, wand in the other. He gave her a weird look. "Exactly what kind of people are you expecting to just pop into my room at a moments notice? Do I need to pack up all my stuff and take my trunk with me or something?"

She laughed nervously. "Uh, no. I'm not expecting anyone. Nuh uh."

Rolling his eyes, Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest. "Right. Like I believe that. If you get my _library_ blown up you are going to replace every single text. Don't think I don't have a list." He did, in fact have a list. He'd drawn one up when he first started letting her use the library, in case she tried to swipe a book. Since then he'd come to trust her, but that didn't mean he wasn't cautious.

"Right, sooo, what are you doing here? I thought you were looking after your guardian?"

Cyrus let out an explosive sigh and wandered into his kitchen to look for something to eat. Stressing out over crazy muggle security made a guy hungry. "Yeah, well, one guardian gets out of the woods and the other jumps in the snake pit, or so it seems."

"The fuck? Seriously?"

Cyrus snorted. "Yeah. Remus is healing nicely, and Severus decides that he wants revenge. So he gets the werewolf that poisoned Remus in the first place, tortures some information out of him, and decided to go after the supplier this morning. I don't know how he didn't know about the attack in the first place, but he's taking it pretty badly. He wants to stop it from happening again, I guess."

He walked back to the bed with his apple and protein bar, too tired to try to cook something. Tara was giving him her 'I can't believe the shit you get into' look. Cyrus couldn't believe it either.

"How in the world would Snape know about Remus getting poisoned before it happened?"

Cyrus blinked. Oh. He hadn't told her about him being a spy, had he… It was hard keeping it all straight in his mind sometimes. He'd really been talking to himself when he mentioned that, but now he had to cover it somehow… "He knows someone who knows someone," he said vaguely. He was too tired to pull something amazing out of his ass.

Tara raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Riiight. So why are you here then?"

Cyrus cleared his throat nervously. "Well, actually, I was hoping you would be able to help me. I scoped out the place and there are muggles all over it, but the wards on the building are fucking Akkad level. I don't know what Severus found, but someone got the drop on him and might be injured. Hell, he might even be _dead_."

The vampire tilted her head to the side. "You don't seem terribly… worried about all this. You and Snape not on good terms?"

Blinking, he frowned. "What? Why do you say that?"

"Well… you're kind of… shut down. I mean, just yesterday you were freaking out about the Trial, and now this happens, and you're… taking it remarkably well."

Cyrus sighed. "Yeah, well. My life fucking sucks this week. I'm just trying to get through this next crisis and hope to reach the light on the other side, I guess."

Her eyes narrowed and before Cyrus could twitch, she had a knife at his throat. Reacting instinctively, he sent her flying into the wall with a burst of magic and adopted a fighting stance, death stick in one hand and conjured dagger in the other.

Tara grinned. "Pretty good reflexes for a human." She brushed off her clothes and sheathed her knife, then looked up at him and paused, eyebrow raised. "Oh put the wand away. I just wanted to see if you had zombified or not. I'm not going on a search and rescue mission with someone who doesn't have their head in the game. I'm not asking to get killed, thanks."

Cyrus relaxed slightly. "Does this mean you'll help me?"

She gave him a 'wtf' look. "You have to _ask?_ Cyrus, we're friends. You kill for me, I kill for you- I thought I already explained all this to you yesterday after the Trial."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, sometimes people say things and when push comes to shove they toss it in your face."

Tara snorted. "That's human logic right there. Vampires might be all for deceiving and twisting the lines, but when it comes to this? Friendship is something we take very seriously, and when that friendship is betrayed there is _blood_ involved."

"Huh," Cyrus muttered. He really wished he knew more about vampire culture. He'd tried asking Severus before, but the vampire, after rebuking him without reason quite a few times, had finally admitted that he'd never grown up in Other Realm. Apparently, he was a half-vampire. But as vampirism was a virus, it didn't matter if you were a half anything because it changed you as much as it did anyone else. Prying that little tidbit from the man had been like pulling teeth. After he'd put together what he could read between the lines and what he remembered of Severus's violent relationship with his muggle father, which he'd gleamed during the first unsuccessful bought of Occlumency lessons, he'd come to the conclusion that Severus hadn't been a legitimate child. This had probably been the reason why he'd grown up in Human Realm, as well as the reason for why he had ended up deciding to drop out of Shikaan after spending his sixth year there.

He was really beginning to wish he'd taken Interracial Relations instead of Animagus class. He'd wanted to continue the tradition, though – that and the idea of turning into an animal had seemed cool at the time. Now he just wanted to drop the class if he didn't have a break through in the next couple weeks. He was sick of wasting his time meditating. Besides, he was taking one course more than a full load anyway. He could probably drop it…

"Cyrus? Hellooo~ Anybody home?"

The human blinked at the hand being waved in front of his eyes. "Huh?" he asked intelligently.

Tara raised an eyebrow. "Focus. Stop spacing out on me. If we're going to-"

"Taraaa!" Xanthir called out, busting through the door without warning. "I need your help with- Oh, Cyrus! Hey! Where'd you disappear to today? I've been lookin' for you for help with Runes!"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow and traded a look with Tara. "I'm not helping you with Runes homework tonight, Xanthir," he said simply, sheathing the wand that he hadn't even noticed jumping into his hand when the werewolf had burst through the door. It had been instinctual.

Xanthir pouted. "Aaaw, _why?_" he whined. "I want to get as much done as I can this weekend so we can ask lots of questions on Monday!"

Tara hit Xanthir up the back of the head with an open palm, making the werewolf turn his kicked-puppy-eyes on her. "Shut up, Xanthir. Cyrus's guardian got kidnapped or something. We're going on a rescue mission."

It was like a switch had been hit. Xanthir's expression smoothed from his pout, turning completely serious. "Your guardian got kidnapped? What happened?"

Cyrus sighed. "Remus, my werewolf guardian, got silver poisoning from some dick in his pack. Severus, my vampire guardian, found said dick and brought him to justice, and also discovered some information about there being a supplier."

Xanthir frowned. "But Cyrus, silver is a common metal. Anyone could be the supplier – you can pick it up at the store."

Cyrus shook his head. "No, I mean, this was _serious_ silver poisoning. It was cut with Wolfsbane and something else. I had to get Healer Svea to heal Remus. He almost died." He didn't really feel like mentioning the fact that he had finished up aforementioned healing. They didn't really need to know… "And I think Severus went to make sure that it can't happen again… he was pissed."

Xanthir's eyes narrowed. "A special kind of silver poison? I'm coming with you. If there's a silver poison out there that's even more deadly than normal silver, the pack needs to know about it."

Cyrus blinked. "You're… you sure?"

The werewolf nodded. "Yep! And besides, you're a friend," he playfully nudged Cyrus with his elbow, "and friends help friends." He grinned and turned to Tara, expression fading and being replaced with a curious look. "So, why are _you_ coming?"

Tara grinned wryly. "Cyrus is a friend, too."

Xanthir's orange eyebrows crawled into his messy hairline. "Seriously?" he looked between the two of them, surprised. "When did that happen?" he asked, looking miffed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Cyrus felt annoyed. Even a werewolf seemed to know what 'friend' meant to a vampire.

"It happened just yesterday. It wasn't like I've had much time to tell you about it, Xanthir." She smiled affectionately and punched him in the arm. The werewolf winced. Tara turned to Cyrus. "Anyway, do you have a location? We should probably get going. The clock's ticking after all. Xanthir, you got your magi-com? We need to be able to contact each other if we get separated or some shit."

The werewolf nodded, slipping a phone out of his pocket. "Yep."

She swiped it and started punching numbers in. "Cyrus, give him your magi-com so he can program his number into it. I'm giving him your number myself, since you're still incompetent with the damn thing."

Cyrus gave the device to Xanthir, shooting an annoyed look at the vampire. "I haven't had it for very long. Yeesh."

She rolled her eyes. "For someone who supposedly grew up with muggles, you're rather slow to pick up the concept of a cell phone."

He glared. "It wasn't like I was ever _allowed_ to have one."

She looked up, completely mystified. "Why ever not?"

Cyrus could tell her that he had been basically neglected and locked in a cupboard until he was eleven, but really didn't want to go into explaining that right then. So he went with the simplest explanation. "Cell phones cost money."

She rolled her eyes and muttered about 'cheap' and 'stingy' before tossing the magi-com back to Xanthir. The werewolf caught it without looking and finished programming his own number into Cyrus's, thankfully not tossing it at the human and just handing it over instead.

"Alright," Tara said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You wanna take us to this place?"

Cyrus nodded and side-along apparated them to the mansion. Upon arrival, however, Tara got a weird look on her face, grabbed them both by the back of their shirts, and dragged them into the shadows and away. As soon as they surfaced for air again, the human yanked away with a "What gives?"

Tara said nothing for a moment, completely focused on something else. When Cyrus opened his mouth again to question her, Xanthir actually put his hand over his mouth and shut him up with a quiet shush. Confused, Cyrus watched Tara 'listen' for a good minute before she finally relaxed and nodded at Xanthir, who let Cyrus go.

"We were almost followed. I tried to get us out as soon as possible, but I wasn't sure if they picked up my trail or not," she explained, letting out a breath of air.

The human frowned. "What? We were blocks away. How could they have-"

"You probably alerted them to your presence the first time you apparated in, Cyrus," Xanthir explained calmly.

Tara nodded. "Whoever owns that place has a vampire in their employ, that's for sure. When they saw you return, they probably realized that you could be a threat."

Cyrus grunted and sat down on a nearby crate. Tara had shadow-walked them to a warehouse, it seemed. "Great. So how do we get in now if they know that we're here?" he asked, kicking a rock on the ground. It did nothing to vent his frustration.

Tara and Xanthir shared a look. "Well, if they have a vampire, I can't shadow walk us. And if the wards are as good as the Akkad mansion we broke into, the other methods of infiltration probably won't work…"

"Why don't you use that blood magic thing of yours, Tara?" Xanthir asked.

Cyrus blinked in surprise. "You know about that?" he asked, confused. Tara had said it was supposed to be a secret.

The werewolf grinned. "Of course. Tara and I have been friends for years, Cyrus."

"Huh. Okay, but how do we get close enough for her to do her thing?"

Tara looked thoughtful. "Do you still have that rock of yours?"

Cyrus blinked. "You mean that stone that we used for the Akkad break in? No, I don't. It died when I was on the steps of the courtyard."

"Oh, right. Do you have anything else hidden up your sleeve? Like that disappearing act that saved your ass?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't know how I got out of the courtyard, or how to do it again, so whatever it was is useless anyway."

Xanthir got a thoughtful look on his face. "You said there was a vampire, right? Could you find out how many?"

Tara hummed thoughtfully to herself and disappeared into the shadows. A minute later, she appeared again. "There's only one skulking about, far as I can tell. And seeing as he should have been able to follow us to this warehouse and detect me scouting him, I'd say he's not very competent. That, or he's very newly turned. I say we kill him."

"But what if has check-ins with the big boss? We don't really have enough info to be just killin' the guy."

Tara shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. And what kind of back up should we ex-" She stopped and turned to Cyrus. "Can you tell how many magical people are in a building with that thing of yours?"

Xanthir looked between the two of them, confused.

"Only if they're wearing spells or have wands," he admitted after a moment, not sure if he wanted Xanthir to know about his rune sight.

She nodded. "Alright. How close do you have to be?"

Cyrus blinked and thought about it. He'd never really tested how close he had to be. He could sort of 'zoom in' and make layers disappear so he could see what was beyond, but he'd never had reason to test the distance before… "What direction is the mansion in?" he asked. Tara pointed somewhere over his shoulder. He turned around and closed his eyes, not wanting Xanthir to see pupiless, glowing green. Seeing the wards – nothing more than a spec of light from this distance – he focused on 'zooming in' like he did in Dumbledore's office.

His eyebrows rose when it worked. Peeling away layer by layer of the wards and the other spells on the building, he frowned. "It looks like there's an underground bunker. It's completely covered in wards, too, and I think there are sort of… escape hatches. Either that or they attach to other buildings involved in… whatever it is that goes on in there."

"What about magical people?"

"Hmm… I can't see the vampire. So either he doesn't use a wand or he's not magical… In the courtyard there's a couple magical folk mixed in with the muggles. It's a good cover, really. Anyone breaking in wouldn't expect the guys with the machine guns to whip out a wand."

"And on the inside?"

"Give me a second," he murmured, frowning in concentration. There were so many floors… And it was amazing that he could even see the architecture. A quick glance at the walls and floors revealed anti-fire charms, strengthening charms, protective charms, anti-stain charms… and some others that he wasn't going to bother to try to figure out with so little time left. "I can see… twenty. Twenty above ground, and… fewer underneath. Maybe ten. And the bunker is about twice as large as the actual mansion." He released his rune sight and opened his eyes. Turing back around, he raised an eyebrow at the grin on Xanthir's face.

"You got some cool tricks up your sleeve," the werewolf commented, but didn't ask, for which Cyrus was grateful.

Tara smirked at Were before becoming serious again. "So that's twenty inside, ten under, and how many outside?"

"Around fifteen."

"Great. And then machine guns, and other nasty surprises. What the fuck was Snape walking into… idiot."

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Xanthir asked, "So, are we just goin' to break in and wing it?"

Tara grunted, glaring off into space. "We need more information. I say, before we do anything too drastic, we get a little information. It they were going to kill Snape, he's dead already, and if they're not going to, the torture will probably last for a few days at least." She turned to Cyrus and watched him closely. "You alright with waiting to move?"

The human shrugged. "I'd rather successfully save him then fuck it up and get caught. But where are we going to get more information?"

Tara grinned. "What have I told you, Cyrus? Information is my currency. I have a contact in the muggle world. A hacker. Take a breath – I'm shadow walking us."

Cyrus barely had the time to do as she suggested before they were falling into darkness. It was a relatively short trip, thankfully, and when they stumbled out of a shadow the human had to admit it was one of the smoother forms of magical travel he'd experienced.

Glancing around them, Cyrus was understandably surprised that they had actually appeared on the front step of the house instead of the inside. Tara wasn't exactly known for knocking, but this time she did, using a weird rhythmic pattern on the door. A few moments later, it opened, but there was no occupant visible.

Tara walked in without a hitch, though, so Cyrus assumed there was no danger and followed as well. The door slammed shut behind him and he spun around to see a gangly woman standing there, glasses glinting eerily in the light.

"Tara. And here I thought I'd never see you again. How is vampire life treating you?"

"Oh you know. The usual. Life threatening situations, Trials, breaking into secret bunkers…"

The woman hummed thoughtful and walked past them to a room literally filled to the brim with computers. There was shit _everywhere_. "I take it this isn't a social call?"

"No, not really. We can catch up in a few days. I'll phone you with a time and date."

"Very well. What do you need?" she asked, sprawling onto her swivel chair and grabbing a cup of coffee, totally not caring that the room had dirty dishes all over the floor and other bits of garbage and clips out of magazines.

"I have an address for you. I need all the information you can get on it."

She hummed to herself again, took a long drag of coffee, and then put the cup down and started typing furiously at what seemed to be her main computer. There were many others strewn haphazardly around the room, but most of them didn't even appear to be on. "Alright. Address?"

Tara rattled something off, making Cyrus wonder when she had the time to look at a street sign.

"Hmm. Hmmm." She typed away. "Oh my." Her fingers started moving even more quickly, and then she paused and started turning on the screens behind her computer that were attached to the wall or held up by boxes. A few moments later, a schematic to the building that Cyrus had just been looking at came up on the largest screen. "You pick very interesting places to break into, Tara," the woman commented absently. "On the outside it's a secure muggle mansion. On the inside it's teeming with magic. Unfortunately, aside from the blue prints available because the building is of muggle design, there isn't much information. Whatever's going on here is probably highly illegal and dangerous."

Tara sighed. "You can't get any more than that for me? We already knew all that. And your blue print's missing the underground bunker."

The woman continued clicking away, bringing up articles from newspapers and other snippets of information. "I can get you a name. Alfonso Rousseau. He's on the deed for the property, but of course that doesn't mean he's the actual owner."

"And what do you have on this Rousseau guy?"

"Hmm… He's French, and apparently wanted in a few countries for illegal trafficking of… just about everything. Drugs, slaves… You name it, he's dipped his hand into it. And come out quite wealthy."

"Is he magical or muggle?"

"Hmm… he was born to muggles and later studied at Durmstrang. After graduating, though, he returned to the muggle world and went into business, which eventually lead him to the illegal kind. You need anything else?"

Tara made a thoughtful noise. "Not unless you got anything useful."

She shook her head. "No. Most of what I've obtained I got from a private source. I try to keep my hands out of stuff like this. They have a way of finding out that you _know_."

Tara patted the woman on the shoulder. "Thanks, Sherry. I'll get out of your hair now."

The woman caught the hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the palm. "Anytime, Tara. Please don't forget to call. You have been disconnected lately."

The vampire sighed and let her hand be held. "It's been crazy, what can I say."

Sherry smiled lasciviously. "Perhaps you are in need of a little stress relief?"

Tara laughed. "Perhaps," she agreed, amused, pulling her hand away. "I really do need to go. This operation's kind of time sensitive. I'll phone you in a couple days."

Sherry nodded and watched them until Tara had pulled them through the shadows and back to the warehouse.

Xanthir was the first to speak. "So, standard information trading deal with her or your _other_ kind of deal."

Tara grinned. "Just because you don't get laid doesn't mean I can't. We need to find you a girl."

The werewolf snorted. "No thanks. The girls at Shikaan are a little too scary for me. I prefer them soft."

She just laughed and clapped him on the back. "You'll find yourself a sweetie one day."

Cyrus watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, not commenting. When Tara had first told him she traded sex or blood for information, he hadn't exactly… well. It was one thing knowing it and another seeing it. But something was niggling at him… "Tara," Cyrus began slowly, drawing both her and Xanthir's attention to him. "When we first met you said I had to pay for your help in blood or sex, but you're, well… gay. So what…?"

Tara blinked in surprise before a grin spread across her face. "Oh. I say that to everyone the first time I provide information." She laughed and smacked him on the back. "Don't worry, your virtue was always intact. I only fuck women. And there are ways for a guy to pay in sex, like, providing a professional female escort for an evening or something similar."

Cyrus's eyes widened. "A prostitute?!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly. You humans have such odd scruples. And the polite term is _escort_. If you ever call one of those ladies a prostitute you will find yourself ball-less before you can say 'fuck'. But getting back on track," she gave him a look, "I say we either storm the place or try stealth for as long as it works and _then_ storm the place. And we should make some emergency portkeys too, just in case."

Xanthir nodded. "You know how to make them, right?" When Tara nodded, he continued, "Are we splitting up or sticking together?"

"Together. Going into a huge fucking unknown like this? We'd be stupid to get separated. If we stick together, we can watch each other's backs. Have you guys started covering advanced tactical scenarios in Weapons and Battle yet?"

Xanthir nodded and Cyrus just stared. "Uh, we've covered basic tactical scenarios. And basic formations and stuff, but nothing advanced. Welkins is still going obstacle-course happy."

Tara swore. "Okay, but do you know about basic cell functionality?" At Cyrus's blank expression, she ran a hand through her loose hair. "Basically, every team has people on it with different skill sets. You are what we would call a slow magic powerhouse or heavy hitter. Xanthir is the close combat weapons specialist, and I'm the best at subterfuge due to being a vampire and the most trained. As a three-man cell, if we were going incognito, you would be in the middle, I would be at the front, and Xanthir would cover our asses. If we were storming in, I would be covering our asses and you would be out in front casting spells, with Xanthir taking out anyone who gets too close."

Cyrus nodded, beginning to understand. "I think we covered concepts like that shortly, but not in much detail."

Tara nodded. "They set the foundations first before they start cultivating you into the kind of warrior that can be put on a strike team. Not everyone wants to become an assassin, after all, but most of us have enough experience being on a team that if we needed to fight a battle, all the Shikaan students know the drill. It's when you try to fight with the people who didn't go to Shikaan that you start having problems. Some of them are ridiculously incompetent.

"Anyway, we'll be going in, in a stealth formation first. As soon as the shit hits the fan, though, we're swapping to the second one I described. Oh, also, retreat formation in case we can't disapparate, portkey, or shadow walk: I'll shrink you and Xanthir and I will beat it like a bat out of hell, got it?"

Cyrus nodded sharply, starting to get antsy. Tara was right in that they all knew the 'drill' to some extent. Cyrus had gone through very simple simulations like this before, with different objectives, but he'd never done anything that was _real_ before. Welkins made incredibly real mannequins for them to fight, detain, or kill, from how hard their punches hurt to what blood looked and felt like when it burst from the carotid artery and splashed all across your face, but… Knowing they weren't real made it easy to kill them. He'd killed before – those werewolves when Severus had been captured by Fenrir – but it hadn't been like this. He'd killed a few. Those who attacked him. But this? He worried that he wouldn't be able to go through with it if he needed to. He didn't want to freeze. His friends could be killed if he froze.

At least he didn't have to worry about preparation. He dressed in his basilisk armor nearly every day and kept his emergency bags with him at all times, so he didn't have to get anything prepared. Neither did Tara or Xanthir, it seemed, when the werewolf pulled two large and deadly looking blades out of nowhere. They were too short to be swords but too long to be daggers, so Cyrus had no idea what to call them. They hadn't moved on to weapons in class yet, as they were still working on hand to hand combat and physical training.

"Alright. From this moment on I want silence. Telepathy only."

Xanthir nodded as if he expected it, checking his belts and testing the sharpness of his blades.

Cyrus floundered. "Telepathy?" Great. One more thing he had no experience with.

Tara paused in her own double-checking and stared at him. "You know Occlumency. Surely you've picked up telepathy from all the mental waves vampires give off?" Cyrus shook his head and the vampire swore again. "Why the hell not? This is going to make operations with you a goddamned pain the ass later on, you realize. Why the fuck haven't you learned yet?"

The human was starting to get annoyed, both with Tara for making all these assumptions and at himself for not being up to her standards. He was only a first year. Xanthir had a year on him and Tara had graduated already. "I've never needed to. And I don't even know if I _can_."

She snorted. "Of course you can. Everyone can. Here, feel this?"

Cyrus frowned and concentrated. "Yeah."

Tara stared at him for a few moments expectantly, and then frowned. "Wait, you can feel it, but you can't hear what I'm saying to you?"

He shook his head and she crossed her arms over her chest thoughtfully. "How weird. Try listening harder."

And how the hell was he supposed to do _that?_ "I can't hear anything."

She frowned even more. "Hmm. Drop your shields and we'll try again."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Drop them? Are you insane? I don't want anyone poking around inside my-"

"Calm down, Cyrus. No one's doing any poking here. Your inability to communicate Telepathically is going to royally fuck up this mission, and any other missions you go on in the future, capiche? So, drop them. Now."

Letting out a frustrated breath, he closed his eyes and dropped into his magic. Finding his mind quickly, he pulled it out of the stream of energy and 'flew' up to the empty space where his mind was supposed to be. Hitting the clasp, he let it release and returned to the real world.

"Whoa," Tara exclaimed. "That's… that's freaky. How did you do that?"

Cyrus frowned. "Do what?"

"Well, your mind was _not there_, and now it's there, and I didn't even notice that it wasn't there before. Actually, never mind. We don't have time. Can you hear this?"

_::…thir wears pink panties wh…'s looking_._::_

_::…not, you cow!::_

_::Shut… trying… he can hear us.::_

"I can hear you now," he said, blinking in surprise. Huh. "It's all broken up, though. I'm just getting fragments.

_::Try…ck like this.::_

"Try talking back?"

_::Yeah. You should… able to.::_

_-Uh, can you hear me?-_

"The fuck?" Tara said out loud in response, giving him a weird look. "What are you speaking, Greek? I've never heard shit like that before."

_-Greek? No, I'm speaking English. Well, thinking English. Am I doing this right?-_

_::Xanthir can you… what he's saying?::_

_::No. It's… whatever it is it doesn't sound like any language I've ever heard before.::_

"Cyrus, stop speaking that, well, whatever the hell it is. This is serious," Tara said with a frown.

The human floundered. "I _am_ speaking English!"

"Well, that's not what's coming out."

Xanthir stepped between the two of them with his hands held out. "Okay, let's work this out another time, okay? Cyrus, can you hear what we say?"

The human frowned. "Well, for the most part. It's starting to get a bit clearer."

"Alright. That's better than nothin', right Tara? You're the mission leader, so you just give him orders and direct him, okay?"

She grunted and stared at Cyrus. "Alright. I guess that can work. It's still annoying, though."

_::You ready to move… Cyrus? One burst of nonsense for yes and two for no.::_

_-Yes?-_

_::Alright, I guess…'ll work. Xanthir, I'm going… take out the vampire. I'll be right back.::_

_::Okay. Careful.::_

Tara grunted and pulled her rune-covered sword out of thin air before disappearing into the shadow behind her. A few moments later, she reappeared with a body and a head. She tossed both onto the ground a distance away and burned them with a flick of her wand. "Muggle vampire. Probably thirty or so years after his turning. Wasn't very competent. Which probably means that the person who actually captured Snape is stronger, or Snape's weak." She looked at Cyrus for confirmation.

The human shook his head. "Severus isn't a wimp. He did a year at Shikaan, and he's well versed in the Dark Arts."

She nodded. "Alright. That means we need to expect to run into someone pretty powerful. Probably vampire or human. No werewolves would work for someone creating a poison to kill them, I don't think. But don't rule it out completely. Anything else we need to address before we get to it?"

Cyrus bit his lip. "Uh, my mind is pretty much completely vulnerable like this. And there are things in it that I don't want people to, you know, find out. What about that?"

Tara looked thoughtful. "Well, Xanthir and I will be too busy during all this to snoop around, and as your friends we respect your privacy. To a certain extent. So that's not a problem. If we run into an Occlumens or Telepath in there, give us a warning before you do the disappearing thing with your mind, okay? We need to know if we can't get a hold of you anymore."

Cyrus nodded, feeling better about it. He could tell when someone was inside, after all, he just couldn't keep them out without collapsing and submerging the web. And his stomach was still twisting in knots from dread and anticipation.

"Anything else?"

"What about disguises?" Xanthir interjected, tilting his head curiously. "We don't want them knowin' what we look like."

Tara nodded and tapped her head with her wand. She changed into a beautiful blond with too big of a nose. "You two know spells?"

Instead of answering, Cyrus cast the spells that changed his physical appearance. He'd gotten quite familiar with them by now. Instead of dirty blond hair, he now had curly, short black hair and blue eyes. Turning to his left, he saw Xanthir do the same.

"Alright." Tara said, nodding her approval. "My name on this mission is Red, Xanthir is Orange, and you are Green," she said, turning to Cyrus. "We don't want these guys knowing our names either. Green, permanently conjure me three rings."

Blinking, the human did as asked, making them black, simple, and strong. She held her wand over them and muttered 'portus' under her breath. Grabbing two of them, she gave one to Xanthir and attached her own to her… belly button piercing, of all things. Xanthir attached his to one of the loops on the top of his ear, where it was hidden by his messy orange spikes. Cyrus just shrugged and slipped it onto his finger.

_::Alright. Portkey… is 'Fuck me sideways.' Yes, Orange, that's from a movie.::_

_::Is that the… with the vampires?::_

_::Yeah. You really should… and watch it. Anyway, I'm shadow… us there. Orange, in back, Green, in middle, and… to keep up alright? And X, if he falls behind, just throw him over…lder and carry him.::_

_::Aye aye, boss!::_

Without another word, Tara put her hand on both their shoulders and they disappeared into black.

_::I'm going to take us into the bunker, first. This mission is to find Snape, who were now referring to as Target, and chances… got him down there. Unless we run into another vampire, I should be able to… in the shadows for the most part. As soon as our cover's blown, though, we go into formation. And if at any point one of us… wounded, we leave and get them to a healer.::_

Cyrus really wished at that point he could speak, because he _could_ heal. He tried anyway. _-I can heal, Ta- Red.-_

_::I still can't understand… Green. And I know you're taking Healing class, if this is what this is about, but you can't heal cross species yet. I… don't cover that in first year because I took the course for a while.::_

And of course Cyrus couldn't explain that he didn't _have_ that problem. Fuck. He really needed to figure out how to communicate telepathically. This was ridiculous. He decided to just not say anything, and if one of them were hurt beyond what their natural healing abilities could handle, he'd take care of it.

_::We're in the bunker now. There aren't many guards but- What the fuck?!::_

_::Ta, I mean, Red? What is it? We can't see through… like you can.::_

_::Those… There are werewolves down here. Dozens. I can't fucking believe it. They… children!::_

Cyrus was really beginning to wish the telepathy would stop cutting out in the middle of important parts. They had werewolf children captive?

_::Green. Check if there are… on the cages.::_

Check if there were what on the cages? _-Er, can you repeat that Red?-_

_::What? Can you… there are wards on the cages or not?::_

Well, at least that was something he could answer with a yes or no. _-Yes.-_

_::Do it. We're not here to save them… that to the packs if they decide to do something. But the Target's cage… wards too.::_

_::Red, are we seriously going to just… here?::_

_::Don't argue with me, Orange. We've… shit to deal with.::_

Cyrus closed his eyes and activated his rune sight, which thankfully seemed unaffected by the fact that they were in the shadows. Well, aside from all the odd dull sheen on what were normally very bright colors. Now that his sight was activated, he could finally see the building again. They were in the heart of the bunker, and there were far more spells saturating the structure down here than above ground. Now that he had the time to take a closer look, he could indeed see that there were cells all over the place though he couldn't see if there was anybody inside.

_-Yes?-_

Tara and Xanthir's arguing cut off. _::Was that a yes to the wards?::_

_-Yes.-_

_::Great. Now we need to find… a haystack of needles. Fuck. Green… way for you to know where he is?::_

_-No. No?-_

_::Damn. We're going to have to search each one.::_

They were done searching about a dozen cells when an alarm sounded, which surprised the hell out of all of them as they hadn't seen a single person during the time they'd been in there. Maybe they'd discovered the vampire guard missing? Though it didn't really matter now as guards started popping up left and right shooting guns and spells all over the place.

_::Shit! They're shooting shadows, they know… here. Take formation! I'm… out!::_

Cyrus blinked his eyes rapidly as suddenly they were thrown into full lighting, a guard with his wand a foot from Cyrus's face. Reacting without thought, the movements trained into his body from months of fighting with magic and hand to hand combat in Weapons and Battle, he ducked, put his hand on the man's chest, and sent an exploding curse at him point blank.

The assailant's armor struggled to protect him for half a second of sparks before he exploded in a spray of blood, bone, and meat like a chunky water balloon dressed up in a suit. He was relieved when the red and chunks of flesh didn't make him freeze, morbidly glad for experiencing similar effects in class for several months. They were being trained to kill, after all. Falling into the rhythm of battle, he turned his attention to the next assailant and dodged to the side, firing a curse at him that would melt his brain in his skull. The curse reflected off the man's armor and he scowled as it almost hit _him_ instead. 'Keep it simple, stupid,' he told himself, weaving his way past the man's defenses and exploding his face with another burst of overcharged magic.

_::Xa- Orange!::_

Cyrus felt a spray of warm liquid land on the back of his neck and turned around in time to see and dodge the falling, decapitated corpse. Glancing around and seeing that Tara was taking care of the last guard, he turned back to Xanthir, who had saved his ass, and nodded in thanks.

The werewolf grinned. _::Sorry 'bout that, Green. I-::_

_::Orange! You need to keep a better eye on Green. He's our heavy hitter… almost got him killed! He may be killing a fair amount of these bastards, but he… as quick of reflexes as we do. Get with it.::_

Xanthir's smile disappeared and he nodded, gravely. It was odd seeing such a serious look on his face. _::Sorry, Red. I'll watch his back.::_

_::Good. We've been discovered, so we need to check the rest of the cells. We still don't know if the Target is even in there, and chances are they're going to be sending more powerful guards this time. These were rather weak for hit wizards. I'd say low level grunts with wands.::_

Both Cyrus and Xanthir nodded, so the three adopted the second formation, with Tara in back, and started making their way through the hallways again. When they reached the end of the hall of cells, Xanthir shook his head and frowned at Tara.

_::They're all werewolves, Red. And this Target fellow is a vampire, right?::_

_::Yeah.::_

_::I don't smell a vampire down here… checked all the cells in this area. Unless there're more around here somewhere.::_

_::Green. Check for more cells.::_

The human closed his eyes and activated his rune sight again. _-Yes.-_

_::And guards? How many?::_

_-Yes.- _Cyrus frowned and held up six fingers so Tara could see.

_::Great. I'm shadow… again.:: _Tara grabbed them by the arms and pulled them into the shadows cast by their own bodies on the wall behind them.

They didn't make it as far this time. The guards were shooting spells into the shadows, and Tara had to pull them out prematurely. As soon as they exploded out of the darkness, Cyrus was ready, slicing the neck of the first guard with a wave of his phoenix wand. Drawing his death stick with his left hand, he started firing rapid spells down the hallway. Seeing another wave of guards appear from a side corridor, he cussed under his breath and started throwing more powerful and destructive spells, not caring for the chunks that melted out of the walls and the smoke that burned the back of his throat.

_::Shit! Orange, watch Green's back! There's another… the back!::_

_::Right.::_

Cyrus ignored the conversation and kept his focus on the guards in front of him. Getting tired of the way they kept reflecting his spells back at him, he focused his magic into his death stick and intoned, "_Avada Kedavra_."

The green exploded from the tip of the wand and took out three guards before they managed to dodge. Not wanting to give them the chance to recover, he cast it again. And again. It took a lot of power to fire consecutive Avada Kedavra curses, but he'd practiced them enough – just in case – that he was barely winded when the last guard fell.

_::Nice, Green,::_ Tara complimented, decapitating the last guard. She was literally covered in blood as she pulled them into the shadows again. _::Now, let's get to those cells. I want to get the fuck out of this-::_

_~:Well, isn't this interesting.:~_

Cyrus's eyes widened at the unfamiliar voice, but before a single word could be said, they were ripped out of the shadows with violent force and thrown out onto the floor. Groaning at the pain of smacking into the ground at dangerous speeds, he tried to sit up and discovered that his arm had been dislocated and broken. Glancing around at the unfamiliar room, his eyes widened at the sight of hit wizards lining the walls.

_::What the fuck?::_ he heard Tara's voice in his mind.

"An apt description of your current situation, I believe. What is your name, little miss vampire?" the voice taunted.

Seeing Tara push herself to her feet and facing somewhere behind him, Cyrus turned himself around on the floor and started healing his arm. With a sick pop, he pushed the shoulder back into place and set about healing the bone that had broken when he'd landed so roughly.

"You can call me Red. Who the fuck are you?" Tara demanded, summoning her sword from wherever she disappeared it to when she wasn't using it.

The man sitting on a comfortable looking chair at the front of the hall laughed. "You come breaking into my lair, and do not know my name?" he asked, an amused, congenial grin spread across his face. When Tara said nothing, the runes on her sword beginning to glow, he laughed. "Well, I take it from the lack of freed werewolves that that is not your goal. So tell me, little Miss Red, why are you here?"

Tara's eyes narrowed. "You have something I need."

His eyebrows rose. "Really? And what is that?"

"A vampire. You captured him earlier today."

"Hmmm." The man ponderously tapped his chin. "Oh yes, I believe I remember now. Bad attitude? Well, I'm afraid I cannot just _give_ him to you, Miss. You see, he broke into this mansion much as you did, in search of some of my _research_, and I'm afraid he discovered too much before we caught him."

Tara's eyes narrowed. "We're not leaving without him."

The man laughed uproariously as if that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Before they could react, however, he was standing in front of Tara and smacking her across the room. She hit the ground and rolled for a few meters before catching her feet and coming to a stop, sword still gripped in hand.

Xanthir attacked next, but the man blurred again and he too was sent flying off to the side, this time with a loud crack that could be nothing other than a broken bone. His blades went flying into the wall as he rolled to a stop only a few meters away from the guards. One of them kicked him farther into the room, closer to Tara.

Seeing that Xanthir wasn't moving, Cyrus turned to the vampire in preparation to attack. Before he could even form a spell under his skin, the vampire was in front of him, crouching down to the floor with a pleasant smile that showed off a pair of fangs. "Well aren't you a pretty little wizard," the vampire said, his hand next to Cyrus's head and touching the human's hair before he even noticed it had moved. "I could sell you on the black market for a pretty penny. Powerful _and_ rather beautiful. It's too bad when you grow up you'll probably be more handsome than pretty. Such… gorgeous eyes. It truly is a waste."

Cyrus, who had been about to cast a violent curse at the vampire, froze at the familiar words and the hand that caressed his jaw. For a moment, it was Macnair's face staring back at him with that sick look of desire. His brain stuttered to a stop, his magic sputtering in his channels as the vampire's hand trailed down his neck and to his collarbone. When it finally pulled away, it was covered in blood.

The vampire brought the bloodied finger to his mouth and licked it, eyes sparkling with humor and desire. He gave a short, appreciative moan. "Nice. So much magic in the blood, just from sitting on your skin." He grinned and leaned closer, flashing fangs. "You would fetch me a nice price." He returned his hand to Cyrus's cheek. "Such nice skin, as well."

Cyrus had had enough. Ignoring the way his heart raced at the familiar and disgusting contact, he snapped himself out of it and fired an exploding curse from the channels in his chest.

Unfortunately, the vampire sidestepped the wave of magic with ease. His eyes narrowed with annoyance. "That's quite enough of that. If you cast any more magic in my halls I will break every bone in your body, human."

Tara, who had been standing silent, hissed furiously, "What clan are you?"

The vampire scowled, annoyed at the distraction. Cyrus used the short window of opportunity to pull himself to his feet and move closer to his two friends. "Sanguis."

Tara frowned. "There is no Sanguis."

The vampire laughed. "Honestly. You always assume that only your clans in Other Realm exist. Not all of us want to live there."

Tara's eyes widened slightly. "You're… you're a muggle vam-" She was cut off as the vampire smacked her into the wall with a loud _crack_.

"I do so hate the terms of magical beings. I am a vampire with far more years than you. Your senior, if you will. I demand a little respect," he sneered.

Tara snorted. "You can't be that much older than me. The clans purge the human realm of vampires every hundred years. You would never measure up to one of our clan leaders. Your days are numbered, _muggle_."

The vampire started laughing. "I have never fought one of your 'clan leaders'. Nor will ever need to. They cannot purge what they cannot find. You see, a muggle vampire receives some very interesting abilities once they reach a certain age. I've begun to think of it as… compensation, for not being born with magic."

Tara spat out a mouthful of blood and pulled herself out of the dent she'd created in the wall. "Oh really. And how long did you manage to survive the purges? Two hundred years? Three hundred?"

"One thousand four hundred, actually." He smirked at the completely shocked expression on Tara's face. "Why are you so surprised? Your species really is too confident in their superiority. It's pathetic." Before Tara could move, he had hit the back of her neck, knocking her unconscious and sending her flying across the room with the force of it. She hit the floor with a sick thud. The vampire sighed dramatically and turned his attention back to Cyrus. He made that appreciative moan again, eyes raking over Cyrus's form. "It really is too bad that I cannot sell you on the black market. Can't have anyone finding out about my little… operation here, after all."

He disappeared and reappeared right in front of Cyrus, hand wrapping itself around the human's throat with an iron grip.

Cyrus gasped and sent a curse at the vampire's stomach, but nothing happened. He tried again, pouring more magic into it, but to no avail.

The vampire snorted. "I pay for the most expensive armor in existence, human. Did you really believe your pitiful spells would be enough to dent them?"

Cyrus choked and sent a flesh-burning spell into the vampire's hands. The vampire pulled away with a hiss and backhanded Cyrus across the face. The human hit the ground with a groan, thankfully not breaking something, though his jaw was definitely bruised. He fired another spell at the vampire but the man just dodged with an annoyed expression.

"Now I believe a prudent question would be…" the vampire muttered to himself, dodging another spell before reappearing right in front of Cyrus, only inches away from his face. "Do I keep you, or kill you?"

Cyrus felt a blunt pain and the world faded to black.

_oOo_

Cyrus groaned and tried to bring a hand to his pounding head, but found it restrained. Alarmed, he sat up and stared down at the pair of cuffs that held his hands together. "What the…" He blinked as he suddenly remembered exactly where he was and how he got there. "Shit." The portkey was gone. Along with his wands and bottomless bags. They'd even taken his salt! Swearing some more under his breath, he looked around the cell he found himself in for an escape.

"C- Green! Good, you're awake."

Cyrus frowned and tried to see where the voice came from. Seeing the bars to his cell, he pushed himself shakily to his feet and groaned. His body ached. How long had he been lying on the floor for? He sent some healing magic throughout his body and eased the tense and bruised muscles as he walked to the bars of his cell. When he tried to channel it to break the cuffs however, nothing happened. Fuck. Magic suppressing cuffs again. "T- Red? Is that you?"

"Yeah." She didn't sound very happy.

"What- why are we in cages? Shouldn't we be… I dunno, dead?" Cyrus asked.

"He wants to know how much you know, _Green_. And who else you might have told," a familiar, scathing voice carried through the hallway.

"Se-" Cyrus almost exclaimed the man's name before he remembered himself. "Snake!" he shouted, picking the first code name he could think of out of thin air. It wasn't like Snape was going to respond to 'target'. "You're alright!"

There was silence for a moment. "I would not say 'alright', but I am still alive."

Cyrus felt his heart sink. "What? Are you injured?"

"A little… worse for wear, one might say. I have yet to be permanently damaged. I am getting… hungry, however." When the vampire was silent for a moment, Cyrus tried to get a better look through the bars but only saw Tara and Xanthir standing across from him, silent. "How is… the wolf?"

"He's doing fine. I paralyzed him so he wouldn't come after you, but fine."

Severus chuckled. "That is probably for the best. Dorcas is… dangerous."

Cyrus blinked. "Dorcas? Dork? Seriously?"

The vampire snorted. "Yes. Darius Dorcas. One of the pieces of information I managed to glean before he discovered me."

"Well I'm glad you're all getting reacquainted with one another." Dorcas stepped out of the shadows of the hallway.

"You!" Tara growled, coming closer to the bars. "I'm going to rip you a new one when I-"

Dorcas reappeared right in front of her, and she stepped back. Cyrus couldn't see the look on the vampire's face, but Tara paled slightly. "That is quite enough of that. Now, 'Snake' I believe the boy called you? Interesting nicknames you have. If you do not answer my questions on the leak, I will gut your rescuers. Do I make myself clear?"

Dead silence. Finally, after a long pause, Severus growled, "You would kill them if I _did_ tell you, Dorcas, as they would be of no further use."

"Yes, that is true. But the _manner_ in which they die could be infinitely more painful and gruesome if you do not become agreeable very fast. Now, _who else knows._"

Snape said nothing.

"Very well. Perhaps I shall give you some incentive." Dorcas turned to Cyrus and pulled a key out of nowhere.

Cyrus backed away from the bars, eyes widening slightly at the smile on Dorcas's face.

"There, there, human. If your 'Snake' gives me the answers I need, you need not die." The vampire disappeared and with a blur of movement, Cyrus found himself standing outside in the hallway with Dorcas's hands gripping his shoulders tightly. "How much does the life of this mortal mean to you, 'Snake'?"

Severus, whom Cyrus could now see, hissed and flashed his fangs as he moved closer to the bars. "Leave him alone, Dorcas."

"I don't think I will."

Cyrus gasped as fangs sank into his neck. A pleasurable haze muddled his mind, and he absently realized it must have been the aphrodisiac. He could hear voices yelling, but he couldn't seem to understand exactly what they were saying as pleasure wracked his frame.

The fangs pulled out of his neck, and his mind cleared a little. "I have no qualms killing him. Or even better, perhaps I'll turn him and tie him to my bed? I'm sure he has _quite_ the body under this basilisk skin."

Cyrus felt hands traveling all over his chest, eventually moving down to grip his crotch, but he couldn't seem to care. He knew he should be disgusted, and Macnair came floating through his head again, but the pleasant thrum running through every nerve in his body didn't reflect what he was feeling.

"Fine, I'll-"

"Don't, Snakey," Cyrus murmured listlessly. "He'll kill wolfy, and all of-"

"Enough, mortal," Dorcas snapped, squeezing Cyrus's throat. "Now, _'Snake'_, exactly how much did you discover, rifling through my files? And who else knows of my operation? It is clear that these three did."

Cyrus blinked slowly, his head starting to clear from the drug-induced haze. He frowned. Anger bubbled in his stomach, along with nausea from… Dorcas. His hands. They were still on Cyrus's shoulders.

"Free them and I will tell you."

Dorcas let out an angry breath. "You are being purposely obtuse, Snake. Of course I won't let them go. I am trying to plug a leak here, not blow it open. Perhaps I need to make an example of one of them for you to talk? Would that make you understand how serious I am? If he is lucky, he will not survive the turning procedure."

Cyrus's eyes widened. _Turning?_ Before he could react, two sets of fangs sank themselves into his neck again, and all thoughts dissolved with the bone melting pleasure. He heard shouting, but he didn't care. His entire world centered on the heat burning through his veins…

Until it began to turn into pain. His heart stuttered in his chest, his brain started shutting down from blood loss. He was nearly unconscious when he felt his body being laid down on the ground. A warm liquid spilled into his listless mouth, and he tried to spit out the coppery fluid to no avail. He was too weak.

Under the assault of fiery pain, his vision dissolved into darkness.

_-Toki Mirage-_

Don't send the assassins?

The cliffhanger is all Roos's fault. I wanted to put it in chapter 20, but yeah. She brought out the whip. :P

Roos:_ (Smirks) Yessss, I am evil! (Cracks whip) You know you love me Mirage. (Smiles) All BS readers love me too! But, dear readers, if any of you do not due to a certain cliffy, think before you come after Mirage or me... (Smirk) First there are my Liefjes, two evil Germy's under my command who are to receive their... Toys... very soon... Second there is our little MoMo, Lover of Torture and Pain... Third, Demon Enforcer Evy – my lovely little Dreamer, and last but not least... There. Is. Me. (Evil Smirk)_

Mirage: O.o' Yeah Roos, show off that dark side… :P

And you're all pretty lucky this chapter got out so fast after the last update. I managed to write most of it the weekend before classes started. French and Music History are going to kill my time this year. The prep work is _insane_.

Dunno when the next update is going to be, but the story won't leave me alone. (sulks) It's like a recalcitrant child.

And this is the last 'surprise' chapter. For anyone wondering, I will be doing the **usual word count** on my profile after this.

_Special Note:__ Roos, due to personal reasons, is going to be MIA for an undetermined amount of time. This makes me very sad. I will do my best to keep the story going, but she has next to no more personal computer time, and __**I rely on her. BS is dead without her.**__ And other dramatic lamentations…_

**Forum:** Again, anyone who has questions to clarify stuff in the story, I usually give you some sort of answer. Feel free to pop by. But if you ask any questions about this cliffhanger and what's going to happen next… well. It won't be pleasant. :)

Thanks for reading!

_**Edit: FYI – I've put up a warning list in the first chapter in case there's anything else that you should know about if you're a squicky kind a person. :P **_


	20. Chapter Twenty: Recovery

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty:

_oOo_

Cyrus groaned and clenched at his stomach with his arms. It felt like his bones were on fire, his flesh was melting, and someone had poured a can of battery acid into his stomach.

"Well. This is unfortunate," Dorcas murmured, hand tightly grasping Cyrus's chin and bringing on a wave of nausea. "It looks like your body is rejecting the change. You'll probably be dead in a few hours…" He trailed off, releasing the human's chin and running a hand down his cheek. "It's too bad. I would have enjoyed fucking you."

Feeling the nausea building, Cyrus let out a low moan of pain as he rolled onto his side and emptied his stomach onto the stone floor. After the first wave stopped, he breathed slowly to try to slow the spinning pirouettes of his brain. He shouldn't have moved so quickly. Dry heaving, he lay his face down on the cold floor, avoiding his mess, and tried to block out the worst of the pain by focusing on the prickles running all over his skin.

"Disgusting," Dorcas murmured, having dodged the projectile vomit.

Cyrus was completely unprepared for the foot that kicked him in the stomach. He didn't even notice that it sent him sliding across the floor and back into his cell as he let out a scream of pain and curled into a ball. He felt like his insides were ripping themselves apart, or his stomach had burst and acid was dissolving his organs.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Tara yelled angrily. "Leave him the fuck alone you cock-sucking, maggots for breath, goat-sodomizing PRICK!"

Dorcas, who had been kicking Cyrus's door shut, disappeared in a blur and grabbed her neck through the bars. "What… did you call me?"

She snarled. "A muggle vampire that drinks _muggle blood_ and fucks goats." She spat in his face.

Dorcas tightened his grip. "You dare insult me when I could kill you with a flex of my hand?"

She snorted. "And what? You gonna kill another one of us? If you keep pickin' off your hostages, you're gonna have nothin' left to bargain with," she bluffed, her expression belying her anxiety.

The muggle vampire stood there for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I can do worse than just _kill_ you, brat." He drew his other hand up to her face and started cutting into her cheek with one of his sharp nails. "I will enjoy torturing the spirit from you," he murmured, bringing the blood on his finger up to his mouth and licking it. He hummed appreciatively. "Nice. Very nice flavor. Steady diet of magical humans, quite powerful… Now, why don't you talk before I rip that pretty face from your bones?"

"Fuck you."

He grinned. "Oh, by the time I'm done with you… Perhaps I'll save you for later tonight. Let you stew on what I'm going to do with you. After all, I have another vampire with more pressing information to deal with. You're just part of the rescue team."

She spat on him and he threw her away, wiping the mess from his cheek. He narrowed his eyes but left to go to Snape's cell, not seeing the grin that spread across Tara's face as he left her sight. She brought a hand up to her cheek, scraped the blood off, and used it to start drawing designs on her bars, occasionally glancing into the cell across from hers and watching Cyrus tremble, thrash, and puke. Her eyes narrowed.

"So… Snake. Perhaps now you'll be a little more willing to share information?" Dorcas said smugly, arms crossed over his chest.

A man that looked very much like Lucius Malfoy with brown hair sat against the far wall of the cell, fangs bared angrily. If all their belongings hadn't been confiscated upon their capture, he would have poisoned the bastard already. Five times.

"Taking the silent route, hm? Well, we'll have to do something about that."

_oOo_

Cyrus could hear screaming. It cut in and out through his fog of agony. If he were conscious enough to even compare the pain to something he'd felt before, it would be worse than the Cruciatus. It felt as though someone had poured iron into his bones, acid into his insides, and was tearing apart his body cell by cell. He could feel the pain in his body increase with every spasm and tremor, but he couldn't stop it.

He couldn't focus enough to even attempt to use his healing magic, and every time he even tried to grasp it, it slipped out of his control and… disappeared. He didn't know where it was going, and it scared him. He could feel his body failing, falling apart, and his magic was going with it.

He was going to die.

With a scream of agony as fire burned his nerve endings and sent his body aflame, he fell into blessed unconsciousness.

_oOo_

Tara's head jolted up from her work when Cyrus let out one loud, brutal scream before it cut off and he fell still. He was going to die in a few hours if she didn't get them all the fuck out of there ASAP. Scowling, she kept an ear on the torture happening in the cell down the hall, wanting warning if Dorcas decided to come back for a little more one on one. Hopefully she would have finished her blood magic array by then. She hoped Snape survived until then. Otherwise they all would have come here for no fucking reason at all.

Finally, just as she was finishing up the last of the array on the floor in front of her bars, the screaming stopped and all fell silent. She heard a _click_ as the cell down the hall locked. Moving quickly and silently, she went to the back of her cell and leaned against the wall.

Dorcas appeared a moment later, blood drenching his normally impeccable suit. For a moment Tara was sure he had killed Snape, but Dorcas wouldn't have looked so irritated if he had.

"I'll be back for you tonight, little Miss Red. And I assure you, your continued existence is far less important to me than _Snake's_." With a hiss, he disappeared into the shadows.

Tara scowled, looking down at the cuffs holding her hands together. She hated it when assholes were smart enough to use cuffs specifically for magical vampires. She'd only had the joy of wearing them once before, and that had been sex related. Amelia had been… quite ferocious in bed.

Letting out a breath, she clenched her teeth and turned her attention back to the matter at hand. Cutting her palm with a nail, as the wound on her cheek had long since healed, she scribbled down the last symbols onto the bars of the cage and jumped back just as they started melting into nothing. She grinned when no alarm sounded. Did they honestly think magical cuffs would keep them completely restrained? Well, to give them _some_ credit, they were strong enough to survive her kicking them with her full strength. That was something. But they didn't know an iota about blood magic, so that was the scale tipping in her favor.

Stupid fucking muggle vampires. There were reasons they were all eradicated once a century.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she exited the cell and looked around. No guards. What, was Dorcas retarded? Unless he was _that_ sure of his superiority. Most magical beings _were_ completely useless without their magic and physically restrained.

Resisting the urge to run to Cyrus and see if her human was okay, she went to the most strategically sound choice and freed Xanthir. It took some quick scribbling on her part, but she had a hole in his bars melting in a minute. Next she went on to Snape, who wasn't looking so good.

"Can you walk?" she asked so softly human ears wouldn't be able to hear.

The brown-haired Lucius Malfoy, Snape in disguise, nodded and stood from where he'd been bandaging his wounds with scraps of his black robes.

Moving quickly, Tara melted his bars too. He pulled himself into the hallway with some trouble, but didn't fall down. "How do we escape?" he asked softly.

Tara's mouth turned down, grim. "I have an emergency portkey. They took Xanthir's and Cyrus's from what I could see, but they didn't think to check my belly button piercing. They took my more obvious pendant portkey instead." She grinned at the look on Snape's face, but it soon fell flat. "Come on. I think he's fucked up Cyrus pretty good. I… don't know if he'll make it."

Snape looked grim. "If there is anything I have learned about that child, is that he always manages the impossible. I'm sure with a little help from a healer, he may yet survive the change."

Tara shrugged and started walking down to Cyrus's cell, where Xanthir was already standing, looking more serious than she'd seen him since that time they'd assassinated Professor Farling's fire-breathing pet snake. It had eaten a student, put twenty in the hospital since its purchase, and Kyranes still hadn't made the man get rid of it, so the students had taken it into their own hands. The possibility of getting their heads chopped off had been quite high, but worth the risk in the end. Even if Farling had almost failed them all out of sheer spite. He hadn't been able to pin it on anyone, but the entire school knew it was a student who did the deed.

Tara started drawing the blood symbols on Cyrus's bars as Xanthir and Snape quietly spoke about the four's future escape. Tara was just about finished when she sensed someone behind her and jumped to the side. A foot planted itself into where'd she'd been drawing blood magic, bending the bars and smudging the blood. Eyes widening, Tara threw herself back, taking Xanthir with her as she fell.

The bars exploded, sending shrapnel flying over their heads. Moving in for the kill, Tara went after the vampire who'd almost killed her (more by fucking up her blood magic than almost kicking her) and slammed him into the floor. Using every bit of strength in her body, she kept him restrained until Xanthir snapped out of it and helped her out.

Once she was sure he wasn't going anywhere, she punched him straight in the face. "Well hello there little muggle vampire. Who the fuck are you?" she growled, grabbing his throat and choking him momentarily.

The man glared, looking positively furious. "How did you get out?"

Tara was about to answer when the man let out a scream that Xanthir quickly muffled without needing to be asked to. Frowning, Tara turned to Snape, who had snapped the man's wrist and held a device in his hand. Raising an eyebrow, she turned back to her captive. "Well now, trying to call in reinforcements? Bad idea." She stabbed two of her fingers up in the soft tissue at the bottom of his jaw and hooked them, pulling the man closer to her face with the hook she had on his jawbone. "You fucked with us, now you're as good as dead. Tell me where you put our shit and I'll make it a quick death."

Snape let out an irritated puff of air. "He will not tell. Hold his head stationary, I will find what we need." Leaning forward, he met the muggle vampire's eyes. After a moment, he hummed and sat up again with a wince. "He is Rousseau, the owner of the mansion and the childe of Dorcas. He is only a few centuries old. Young by muggle vampire standards. The device that releases our binds is in his left pocket, and our belongings are in an armory down the hall."

Pulling her fingers out of the tissue of his jaw, Tara reached down and found it easily. Grinning, she held it up to her restraints and watched them pop off with a hint of relief and a bucket of vicious glee. "Is there anything else we need him for?" she asked absently, already thinking of the ways she could kill him.

Snape shrugged slightly, the movement barely discernable.

Xanthir, having met Tara's eyes, knew exactly what she was thinking as per usual. "So whaddya say, over easy or hard?"

Tara smirked, knowing her fangs were showing. "Easy." Simultaneously, they both cast the darkest curses they knew, from bone melting to castrating to eyelid peeling. This easy way was easier for _them_ really, not their victim. She loved how it misled them. Getting off him when she felt his body starting to dissolve into ash, she watched with wicked glee as the terror in his eyes melted into the nothingness of death.

Turning to Cyrus's cell now that the immediate threat was over, she raised an eyebrow at the sight of Snape already inside, running diagnostics on his charge. Shrugging, she picked her way over the debris and winced at the vomit and blood all over the floor. She wasn't sure she wanted to know whether it was the vampire's or Cyrus's life substance all over the floor, and she didn't want to taste it to find out.

"Xanthir, go and get the shit from the armory. I'm going to make sure no one kills Snape and Cyrus while they're weakened. Hurry up."

The werewolf saluted sloppily with a grin and broke into a quiet lope down the hallway. He disappeared around the corner before Tara could realize that he was still poisoned and call him back. She grimaced. He would be okay. He'd survived the poisoning this long, and from what she understood, the goal had been to kill him slowly and painfully. Letting out tense breath, Tara stayed on the outside of Cyrus's cell in order to keep an eye out for the guards she knew would be showing up eventually, as Snape was still inside. It was only a matter of time.

When they didn't show up some time later, Tara was starting to get uneasy. Where were they? And where was Dorcas? He should have been there beating the shit out of them the moment that explosion went off, but instead Rousseau had been the only vampire to show up.

"Snape," she snapped quietly. A rustle behind her told her she had his attention. "Where the hell are Dorcas and the guards?"

Snape chuckled darkly. "This is not Dorcas's main operation. Rousseau is his childe, running his projects, while Dorcas apparently has more important things to do than stay here all night. As for the guards, this entire floor is sound proof to hide the screams, and no one has ever broken out of these cells. Speaking of which, how _did_ you manage to escape?"

Tara shrugged. "Special skills," she said vaguely, looking up and down the hallway. Xanthir should have come back by now. "How's Cyrus doing?"

Snape was silent for a moment. "Badly. His body is shutting down. At this rate of degradation, I am surprised he is still alive. We need to get him to a healer. _Now_."

Tara bit her lip, just about ready to let out an angry yell when she finally heard the sound of Xanthir's feet down the hallway. "Jesus fucking Christ, finally, Xanthir. What took you so long?"

The werewolf scratched the back of his head nervously. "Well, I'm a little slow with the poison, I couldn't find the room, and- hey, why are you swearin' with human gods anyway?"

"Jesus wasn't a god, Xanthir, he was-"

"Can we leave this wretched hell hole?" Snape cut in, an annoyed expression turning his face dark and impenetrable.

Tara nodded and disconnected the ring from her stomach. With a wandless spell, she enlarged it. "You got Cyrus?" she asked Snape, holding it out where they could all hold it.

The vampire nodded, cradling the unconscious human to his chest.

"Fuck me sideways."

The look on Snape's face as the world disappeared in a swirl of color was priceless.

_oOo_

They reappeared inside Cyrus's room, and Tara wasted no time in shadow walking them all to Healer Svea's infirmary. She hadn't had to visit much during her time in Shikaan, outside of first year Healing, but she didn't let the small size of it throw her. She knew with one removed wall it could service around a hundred people.

Turning to the TA behind the desk, she mentally grimaced. She'd never liked Terry. In fact, she despised him. He rubbed her wrong in every single way a man could rub her wrong.

She didn't think it was possible for a woman to rub her wrong… fuck she needed to get laid.

"Hey Terry."

The TA blinked and looked up at her. "Oh. Hi."

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't remember my name."

He froze. "O-of course I do."

"No you fuckin' don't. Now call up Svea before I feed off your skanky ass."

Terry looked at her funny. "Skanky? What is that?"

Tara sighed. "You elves need to get out more. You're missing _so much_. Anyway, chop chop. Phone? Svea? Now? Or I'll beat your face in. What's it gonna be?"

Terry glared at her, but she could smell the fear coming out of his pores. He was well aware that she could follow through with her threat. It probably wasn't a good idea alienating a future Healer, but nobody liked Terry. She couldn't decide if it was sheer dumb luck or he was emotionally stunted as a child.

"Look, unless it's an emergency for a _Shikaan student_, I can't help you."

Tara's eyes narrowed and before the elf could twitch, she had a knife to his throat. "Listen here little punk ass fairy, we have a _Shikaan student_ dying from a turning here. Now you will phone Svea right now or I will gut you, feed you your own feces, and then dance on your corpse. Do we have an understanding?"

Terry nodded, eyes wide, and Tara let him go. He was speed dialing faster than she had seen someone speed dial before.

"P-professor Svea, emergency," he stuttered into the phone, and in a second Svea was standing in front of them.

"What's going on? If this is another non-student I-" He cut himself off as he caught sight of Cyrus's body on one of his beds, where Snape had put him. "What happened?"

Snape quietly cleared his throat. "A muggle vampire tried to turn him. His body rejected the change."

"Xanthir was also poisoned," Tara tossed on, not wanting her other friend to be forgotten.

Svea glanced at Xanthir's pale, sickly complexion and ordered him onto one of the beds. "Apprentice. You are familiar with poison removal while using a converting structure, yes?"

Terry nodded. "Separately, Master Healer. I haven't done both at the same time before."

"Svea nodded. "Obsidian appears to be in worse condition," he said, already casting diagnostic spells on the human. "You will begin removing the poison from the werewolf's brain and other vital organs. Keep him stable and pace yourself."

With a murmured "Yes, Master," Terry went to the bed Xanthir was sitting on.

Svea, who was still casting diagnostic spells and examining Cyrus's body, raised an eyebrow. "Oh my. This is… difficult." Frowning, he started casting more diagnostic spells. "His magic is getting low incredibly quickly. If he didn't have such a large core he would have died of magical exhaustion by now. How long ago was he bitten and fed the vampire's blood?"

"Aah, a few hours? We had no way to judge time, I'm afraid."

Svea looked annoyed, but brushed it off. "Very well. Did he puke up most of the blood?"

Snape turned to Tara. "You were across from him. Did you see?"

Tara frowned. "There was puke and blood on the floor, but I'm not sure if he got it all out."

Svea nodded and started creating the magic converting channel he had used while healing Remus. "I am going to have to remove the blood and virus from his body, if I can." Svea frowned. Something was off… wrong. Odd. It took him a moment to figure it out, but when he did, he let out a soft gasp. Cyrus's body was breaking down his magic converter and _eating_ it. It was consuming and burning his elven magic as fuel, which should have been completely impossible. No being could use the magic of another being. It just didn't work. And yet... here it was right in front of him.

"What's wrong with him?" Tara asked, solemn and pissed off at the same time. If she ever got her hands on Dorcas, he was dying in the most painful way she could manage with blood magic. Slow and excruciating.

Svea sent his magic into the form on the bed in front of him to try to discern exactly how to answer Tara's question. "I am not entirely certain," he murmured, watching as his magic was broken down and eaten again. "His body is feeding on magic. His own core is approaching exhaustion, which is extremely dangerous in this situation. We need to find a way to give him more energy."

Tara frowned. "More energy?"

Svea nodded. "I am unsure why he is still alive, or why his body is eating magic, but from my observations I can only assume that whatever is taking place is fighting the turning. Perhaps if we give his body the magic it needs, he will survive."

Tara scowled. "And what if this 'plan' of yours doesn't work."

The elf shrugged. "He will likely die. There is not much I can do at this venture. Stopping a turning is a delicate and difficult process, and with even _more_ complications added to the equation… it is not looking good for Mr. Obsidian."

The vampire started cursing under her breath like a sailor, turning the TA's cheeks red with embarrassment as he worked on Xanthir. Snape looked unaffected as he watched Cyrus's still form.

Svea didn't even twitch. "I need someone to provide his body with magic. I am unsure what species will work and which will not, but we should try." He turned to the other beings in the room. He took one look at the bloody and tattered clothes of Snape before turning to Tara. "Tara. I do not have the magic to spare at the moment. If the werewolf is not treated soon, he may die. Would you please feed a small amount of magic to Obsidian to observe his reaction?"

Tara nodded and stepped forward. She gently placed a hand on the chest of her unconscious friend and closed her eyes.

Svea watched closely as she sent a small bit of magic into the human's body. Both white eyebrows rose in surprise as the human's body absorbed the vampire's magic much more easily than it had his own, sucking it into the channels and… digesting it. Turning it into fuel as his body… It was confusing exactly what his body was doing with it. There seemed to be some antibodies fighting and destroying the virus on their own, but at the same time other things were happening that he had no explanation for. His experience with muggle science only went so far, as magical beings had always been far less interested in the finer mechanics of the body. Most often, they didn't care _why_ something worked as long as it did.

Since it seemed the human wasn't having a negative reaction to vampiric magic – indeed, his body appeared to like vampiric magic more than elven – he ordered Tara to feed him half of her core. He kept an eye on the situation for any abnormalities, ready to stop her at a moment's notice.

Tara, without hesitation, did as asked.

Svea watched, fascinated, as Cyrus's body ate the magic and began distributing it. With that burst of magic, the vampire virus was slowly but soundly defeated until he could no longer detect it within the human's body at all. And yet Cyrus didn't seem to be getting better. He was deteriorating. It was almost as if… his body was killing itself. It should have stopped its activities, but it was instead _increasing_ them. He watched as the magic Tara had contributed was used up and Cyrus's own core began to slowly drop again.

"Feed him the rest," he commanded, hoping that it would help. How was it that a human with such a large magical capacity was reaching _magical exhaustion?_ He didn't want to contemplate what would happen when the human ran out of magic, either, but he had to consider it. He was a Master Healer, and yet he had never seen anything like this.

Having a human die under his care would be… inconvenient. He had a reputation to uphold. So he watched as yet again, the magic was consumed and became fuel for a process he didn't even understand.

"Tara."

The vampire looked up from where she'd been staring blankly at Cyrus. "Yes? How is he? Do you now what's wrong?"

The expression on Svea's face didn't comfort her. "No. But I suspect that if his body uses all his magic, he may die of magical exhaustion. His body seems to react well to vampiric magic, and I'd rather not experiment with yet another species' magic. Please locate Rivehn and tell him I asked him to come here. Of the vampire teachers, he has the largest core."

Tara nodded and disappeared into a nearby shadow without a word.

Svea kept an eye on Cyrus as he waited, watching as the human's body consumed more and more of his own magic. Tapping his finger impatiently on one of his folded arms, he waited.

"What are the chances of him surviving this?" Snape asked quietly from where he stood to the side.

The new voice snapped Svea out of his trance, and the elf looked up to the man who was now pale with black hair and eyes. There was no mistaking the torn black robes, however, or the way he stood. "Unfortunately, I have no answer to that question. He…"

Rivehn came out of a nearby shadow, a frown wrinkling his brow. "What has happened?"

Svea let out a perplexed breath. "Hello Rivehn. I know you're working on a project of great importance. Do you have any magic to spare?"

The vampire blinked once, taken aback. "Magic to spare? No, not really, but if it is a dire emergency I can refill my core with one of my storage stones."

The healer nodded. "As I was explaining to…"

"Snape. Severus Snape."

"As I was explaining to Snape, it appears as though Obsidian's body is consuming mass quantities of magic. However, I do not know for what purpose. His body has already fought off vampirism…" At Rivehn's sharp look, he nodded. "Yes, he was infected earlier today with the virus. His body used the magic from Tara's core to finish fighting it off, but the magic consumption has not finished. In fact, it has _increased_. It is my hope that if we feed his body enough magic, it will reach a plateau and stop before he reaches dangerous levels of magical exhaustion and dies."

Rivehn took a step forward. "You wish me to transfer my magic?"

"Yes."

The vampire nodded and took the seat in front of Cyrus's bed. He lay a hand on the human's chest, focused his magic into the still form, and felt his Runes student's body almost _pull_ the magic out of his hand. He let it go, and the only sign of his surprise at his core being drained in ten seconds was the slight lift of his eyebrows. He pulled his hand away. "That is everything. Did it help?"

Svea was silent for a moment, having never stopped examining the body. Finally, he spoke. "I am unsure. At the current rate of consumption, he will die in an hour. You may stay if you wish. However, I do not believe another transfusion would be of any help."

Rivehn stayed sitting there for a moment, saying nothing. After a long pause, he let out a quiet breath and stood from the chair. "If he doesn't make it, please notify me. My duties call."

Svea inclined his head. "Very well."

The vampire disappeared into the shadow of the bed.

Svea let out a breath and went to check on his apprentice. He was only there for a few minutes when he heard coughing and rushed back over to Obsidian, hoping to see him conscious. He was disheartened, however, when he saw the blood that Snape was dabbing away from the human's lips. The elf watched for the next hour as his student's body got weaker and began to spasm and tremble as he coughed up blood and vomited. His hope that Obsidian would survive decreased the closer the human got to magical exhaustion and the more his body began to fail.

_oOo_

Darkness.

Ache… why did he ache?

His whole body felt as if he'd been run over by…

He snapped to awareness, eyes opening in surprise before closing again with a groan of pain at the bright light. He could hear the silence interrupted by voices around him, but couldn't quite understand what they were saying…

He was so tired…

He slipped into darkness again.

_oOo_

Pain.

His entire body was on fire, and it felt like he was melting from the inside out.

Blearily he opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. He could see a ceiling. It was black marble. That meant he was in Shikaan, right?

"Holy fucking- H-Healer Svea! He's finally waking up!!" Tara yelled.

The cacophony of sudden noise and voices gave him a headache, and he groaned in pain, closing his eyes. Why could he taste copper?

"Only you, Cyrus…" he heard the familiar voice of Snape mutter nearby through the noise. Cracking his eyes open again, he saw Severus standing over him, the lines around his mouth either from stress or because he was repressing a smile.

Tilting his head listlessly to the side, he caught sight of Svea.

"Hey Healer Svea," was what me meant to say, but it came out cracked and completely unrecognizable. Svea disappeared for a moment before reappearing with a glass of water and a straw. Cyrus gratefully sipped at it, but swallowing hurt too much so he had to stop before he coughed up a lung by accident.

"How do you feel?" the elf asked quietly.

"Sh-i-t," he managed to get out.

"I am not surprised." At Cyrus's completely confused look, the elf explained. "You were bitten by a vampire, Mr. Obsidian. It appears as though your body successfully rejected the change on its own, but your condition began to deteriorate at an accelerated rate once the virus was gone. You began coughing up blood and vomiting as you approached magical exhaustion. I had expected you to die hours ago. Thus, you can imagine my… surprise, at the fact that you are conscious."

Cyrus blinked slowly, trying to absorb the information given to him. Oh yeah. He remembered the vampire. He closed his eyes, suddenly extremely glad he was… well. It was a home of sorts. And yet he still wasn't safe. Not from students, life, or whatever it was that was killing him. "Wh-at's… wr-… wro-ng." He coughed and tasted more copper on his tongue. Now he knew it was blood. Great. His head started spinning with the abrupt movements

Svea dabbed away the liquid with a summoned cloth. "I do not know, Mr. Obsidian. From what I have been able to determine, your body was feeding on magic. It was my hope that, if enough were to be transferred to you, your body would be satisfied and would not drain you further…"

Cyrus's eyes closed as his tired body pulled him back into a deep, healing sleep.

_oOo_

Cyrus rolled over in his bed with a grunt, burying his face in his pillow. He didn't care if he had class. He was sleeping. The world could go fuck itself.

A persistent hand tapped his shoulder.

"What?!" he groggily snapped into his pillow.

"Is that any way to speak to the woman that just saved your and Snape's asses? Nuh uh, Cyrus."

The human rolled over and blearily peaked open an eye. Was it just him or were Tara's eyes really red? Like, redder than normal? It was probably just him. He'd been sleeping for… how long had he been sleeping for? And where was he? The pillow was too lumpy to be his own. "Where?" he murmured, trying to look around the room but giving up as the colors swirled and brightened.

"You're in the infirmary. You almost died."

Cyrus blinked. The last thing he remembered was… "Severus? He's okay? How… how did we get out? What happened?" His voice croaked at the end and Tara shoved a straw in his face. He sipped away at it as she recounted the story. He could vaguely remember waking up, but it was like a fog had turned the memory incomprehensible.

"Well, it's a little complicated. That vampire, Dorcas, tried to turn you, but your body rejected the change. I think you're one in a handful of humans who can say they survived a turning and _didn't_ become a vampire. It's not very common, and usually there are extenuating circumstances."

Cyrus, who had been panicking upon finding out he'd almost been turned into a vampire, relaxed slightly. "Oh. Okay. So the turning almost killed me?"

"No, actually. It was something else. Svea still has no idea what, too, which is fuckin' weird. He knows almost everything. Even some obscure muggle shit."

Cyrus blinked slowly. "Oh. So… I'm fine now?"

Tara shook her head. "Your body is still recovering from the damage, and Svea has around a hundred different diagnostic and warning charms on you in case anything changes. We..." She trailed off, voice becoming quieter. "We almost lost you, Cyrus. Your body was consuming a lot of magic, and even Rivehn donating his entire core didn't help. We all thought you were going to die, but as soon as you hit magical exhaustion your body just shut down and you went into a healing coma. You were lucid a few hours afterwards, but not for long."

Cyrus stared. "Coma? How long have I been asleep for?!"

"About three days. It's Monday evening, now. In case you're wondering, Snape's back at home. He told me to tell you 'to contact him as soon as you were able'." If Cyrus had been in the right state of mind, he would have found her impression of Snape amusing.

As it were, he just stared. "Huh. And what about Xanthir? Did he make it out okay?"

Tara's expression darkened. "Xanthir's still suffering from the poisoning. Svea doesn't have the magical capacity to heal him right now, so Terry – that's Svea's apprentice – is keeping it at a manageable level and away from his major organs until Svea has enough magic to do it himself. We're lucky he didn't get the same dosage as that other guardian of yours. Svea said Xanthir would have died by now if he had."

Cyrus frowned. That wasn't good. "But, what if I helped, I could-"

"You will do no such thing! We don't even know the long-term effects of whatever the fuck happened to you. Svea was surprised the magical exhaustion didn't kill you, and as far as we know it could start up again and kill you for_ real_ this time! You're on ordered bed rest until Svea says otherwise. No magic, no getting up, no nothing. And if you don't listen I'll chain you to this bed. Capiche?"

The human scowled. "Fine. When can I get out of here?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "You're going to have to ask Svea. I have no clue."

"Alright, so when does Svea get back so I can ask him."

Tara shrugged. "He probably already knows you're awake. He'll be around eventually."

Cyrus scowled at the noncommittal answer and rolled over. "Fine. I'm going back to sleep."

"Good. You need more bed rest."

He was about to tell her off when he thought he felt someone else enter the room. He craned his head around and blinked at the sight of Svea. Well. Speak of the devil, or in this case, elf. "Healer Svea! When can I get out of here?"

The elf raised an eyebrow and said nothing, coming closer to run spells over Cyrus's body. The human couldn't help but squirm under the sensation. It felt like his every nerve was super sensitized. He could feel every brush and poke of magic. Finally, the examination finished and Svea sat down in the other free chair by his bedside. "I am afraid I still do not know what is wrong with you, Mr. Obsidian, although it appears that your body is healing remarkably well considering the damage sustained a few days ago."

Cyrus blinked slowly and raised an eyebrow, pushing himself upright so he could lean against the headboard of the bed. "Alright. So what does that mean? When can I leave?"

Svea actually rolled his eyes.

"I pity the healer before Healer Svea that had to deal with you," Tara muttered, crossing her legs as she sipped from Cyrus's water.

The elf made a noncommittal sound. "How are you feeling?"

Cyrus blinked and looked down at his hands. Wiggled his toes. "Well, aside from achy, I feel fine."

Svea inclined his head. "I see. I will have my apprentice bring you some food from the Main Hall."

Cyrus smiled sheepishly as his stomach growled noisily. "Thanks."

"You are certain you feel no pain? Or anything else unusual?"

Cyrus blinked. "No. Just achy. Like I've been beaten around in Welkin's class all day." Was it just Cyrus or did that bring an amused glint to Svea's eyes?

"Very well. You are to remain here for a minimum of three days. At any symptoms, you _will_ contact me, understood? We are still unsure what is wrong with you."

Cyrus frowned. "You really have no clue?"

The elf shook his head slightly. "No. In fact, we were surprised you lived at all. Your body was burning through your magic faster than any spell I've seen in a long time. We attempted to buy you time by feeding your body more magic, but it did not seem to be effective, and doing so was unsustainable for long periods. I… will have much research to do in the upcoming months." A glint entered the elf's eyes that reminded Cyrus of Tara's 'thirst for knowledge' expression. It just figured that Svea would see this from the perspective of a scholar. Cyrus probably made a great freak science project. Or was it magic project in this case?

"Huh," was all he really had to say to that. He was happy to be alive, no mistake, but as they knew nothing about what was wrong with him, there was no point in getting overly worried.

Yet.

"You will stay in this bed until I deem otherwise. If you must relieve yourself, ask my apprentice to perform the necessary spells. I will not have you relapse for reasons I could prevent. Understood?"

Cyrus nodded, smiling innocently. Svea had never met Madam Pomfrey, so he was unaware of exactly _how bad_ of a patient Cyrus was. Especially now that he could diagnose himself. Well, if he could get his magic working. Everything seemed to be fucked up at that particular moment. So he decided to enjoy his stay in the hell that was hospital wings. For now.

"Hey Tara? Do you think you could find out what I've missed in class and bring me my homework and books?" At her raised eyebrow, he turned on the puppy charm. "Please? I'm going to get so bored in here. It would be a shame if I was so bored I started getting stupid ideas." He smiled.

Tara snorted, amused. "Fine. I will. But you owe me a favor."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "I thought being friends meant we helped each other out without having to do the tally of favors crap?"

The vampire blinked. "I guess that's true." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Alright. I'm sure I can think of something I'll need your 'help' with later." She grinned viciously and disappeared into a nearby shadow.

Cyrus rolled his eyes. His temperament changed drastically, however, when he caught sight of the TA he'd scared the shit out of. How many days ago had that been, anyway?

Oooh, was that steak? He was _ravenous._

_oOo_

It wasn't until Wednesday that he finally got control of his magic back. It was the most frustrating three days of his life. You didn't realize how much you consciously and unconsciously relied on the constant sensation and knowledge of magic right at your fingertips until you couldn't even tap into it.

It had been a disconcerting process, too, going about regaining control of it. His magic had fluctuated uncomfortably for days before it settled enough for him to grasp it in his hands and send a probe through his body.

Cyrus liked to think he was familiar with his body. He'd been healing his own injuries for a few months now. So, suffice it to say he was _very _sure there was something wrong with him. Something Svea hadn't even noticed or told Cyrus about during his checkups. When he'd tried to describe it to the Master Healer, his vocabulary had failed him miserably. The worst comparison he'd come up with was waking up one day and seeing freckles on your face in the mirror, when you _knew_ you didn't have freckles when you went to bed the night before.

As far as he could tell, he was in perfect health. But the… _not freckles. _Whatever it was pissed him off. He had no cold viruses floating around, no vampire virus, no rashes, no fever, no _nothing_, but it was still _there_ and taunting him.

And he still couldn't cast a simple levitation charm wandlessly and have it work normally. After the first day he'd regained internal control of his magic (he needed that control to even attempt to diagnose himself, after all), but when he'd tried to cast a levitation charm that same day he'd nearly put his textbook through the marble ceiling. After his first escape attempt, Svea had tied him to his bed, which had almost led him to putting his textbook through other beds in spite.

It wasn't until Thursday that Svea finally released him with orders to take it easy and not blow up anything irreparable. The first thing he'd done once Svea had released him was check up on both his guardians. Remus was recovering nicely from his injuries, and seemed to have forgiven Cyrus for temporarily paralyzing his legs. The fact that'd he'd actually brought Severus home probably contributed to that.

Next, he'd visited Xanthir. The werewolf had been released already, but was still suffering from traces of the silver poisoning.

"Cyrus! You're out! How ya feelin'?" the werewolf asked with a slightly strained grin as Cyrus sat down at Xanthir's small 'kitchen' table. He knew where Xanthir's rooms were and visited occasionally, but most of his friends seemed to like congregating at his own rooms more. It was, more often than not, incredibly annoying.

The human's brow furrowed in concern. "I'm doing better. No one knows what's wrong with me, but it seems like it's gone for now."

Xanthir nodded. "That's good."

Cyrus eyed the werewolf's pale complexion. He was lying in bed, a few textbooks scattered around him and some loose papers. "How about you? You're not looking so hot yourself."

The werewolf grimaced. "Svea's 'prentice doesn't have the power to completely heal me, and Svea's got other patients to heal too. The whole school's under his jurisdiction. I… I'm starting to think I might be poisoned forever. Constantly in pain…" Xanthir scowled down at his shaking hand. "_Weak._"

Cyrus frowned and moved to the bed. "Here. Let me take a look," he said, shifting some of the papers and sitting on the edge.

Xanthir sighed. "And what'll you be able to do that Svea couldn't?"

Cyrus shot him a look. "Don't bite the helping hand before you even know if it can help. Sit still and keep quiet."

The werewolf blinked, surprised, but nevertheless shut up and didn't move.

Cyrus closed his eyes and focused his magic into Xanthir. He didn't bother with the energy converter, as he was pretty sure he didn't need it. His magic did it automatically. Now to see if he could keep it from tripping out on him.

When he first started sending magic into Xanthir's body to assess the damage, it bucked for a moment, but eventually stilled under his steady control. Letting out a relieved breath, he started probing around the werewolf's body.

What he found alarmed him. Not only did Xanthir have minute traces of the poison still in his tissues, but his body was continuously trying to heal itself and failing. The damage was too extensive and the tissues were beginning to scar. He started drawing the minute traces of poison out of Xanthir's brain. "Don't move an inch, got it?"

There was a moment of silence, but as Cyrus had his eyes closed in focus he didn't see Xanthir's expression. "Huh? What are you doing? That feels… weird."

Cyrus snorted. "I'm not surprised. I'm pulling the poison out of your brain."

"What?! But you're not a trained healer. Even Svea-"

"Shut up and trust me, alright? One of the other reasons Svea hasn't been able to finish healing you is because he doesn't have the power required. I _do_. And I've already done this once before for my guardian. So shut up and let me focus."

Thankfully, Xanthir was blissfully quiet after that point. It took Cyrus around a half an hour to be sure that all the poison was out, and another half an hour on top of that to heal most of the lasting damage and scarring. He was completely exhausted by the end of it, but it wasn't like he was going to let his friend walk around with the equivalent of a broken leg.

"There. All done," he gasped out, flopping back against the werewolf's bed and landing on the other teen's legs. It was uncomfortable, but he was too tired to move. Letting out a sigh, he resisted the urge to fall asleep. "You feel better?" he asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. He felt like he could sleep for a whole day, and it was only late afternoon.

The bed shifted under him as Xanthir pulled his legs out from under Cyrus's back. The human let out a content sigh at the lack of bony knees digging into his spine. He could hear the sound of movement for a while, but was too lazy to open his eyes to see exactly what the werewolf was doing.

When Xanthir finally spoke, he was slightly breathless. Had he been doing katas or something? "Y-yeah. I feel… I feel great! I hadn't even realized how shitty I felt until you… you just… How did you do that?"

Cyrus peaked open a tired eye to see Xanthir standing there, staring at him. "Mm? What, the poison removal? Well, it's rather simple if time consuming-"

"No, I mean… Svea and Terry made it seem so difficult and… taxing. But you've been bedridden after sufferin' magical exhaustion and you just…"

Cyrus blinked blearily up at him and shrugged. "I dunno why. Svea doesn't either. It's… weird." Well, truthfully, he didn't know if Svea knew about the ease in which he could convert energies, without even having to consciously create the converter, but he didn't want the healer to know any more than he already did. Sure, there was patient-healer confidentiality, but how did he know if Svea wouldn't just break it if it would help Cyrus or perhaps the elf's _research._

It was frustrating, confusing, and the thought of it gave him a headache.

"Who's Terry?"

Xanthir blinked. "Terry? He's Svea's TA."

Cyrus frowned. "Isn't he an elf? What kind of elven name is _Terry?_"

Xanthir snorted and laughed slightly. "It's short for Teriphalanus."

The human grimaced. "Oh. I can see why he prefers Terry." They both grinned, sharing in the humor of it. After a moment, Cyrus closed his eyes, feeling a little lighter. "So. How's Runes class been? Tara's been getting my homework for me, but I've sort of hit a rut. This transfiguring crap is _hard_."

Xanthir groaned and flopped onto the bed beside him. "I knooow. Makes me wonder if Rivehn's doin' it to torture us."

Cyrus chuckled half-heartedly.

"He's been actin' a little… off, lately, too."

Green eyes blinked. "Off?"

"Yeah. In class yesterday, he seemed really… distracted. And a couple times he stopped halfway through a sentence before continuin'. I didn't smell any sickness on him, but his face was rather flushed."

"Huh." The human frowned. How weird.

When Cyrus went to class the next day, he finally understood what Xanthir had meant. He had never seen Rivehn so irritable, flushed, and disorganized. Well, for _Rivehn_. He wasn't an incredibly obvious, blatant kind of vampire, but compared to his normal behavior it was quite noticeable.

Cyrus put up a small privacy ward. "You think he's been cursed?" he asked Xanthir, who was sitting next to him as per usual. Trying not to be too conspicuous, he continued to take down notes from the problem Rivehn was working through on the board.

Xanthir shrugged. "I dunno. It doesn't really seem to cause too many problems aside from the occasional verbal stumble, but I've never seen Rivehn stand in one place for almost an entire lecture before. Normally he wanders a bit."

Cyrus hummed thoughtfully.

"You think you could check anyway though? Just in case? With that… thing of yours?"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at him. "_What?_ He's a teacher!" His eyes narrowed. "You just want to know the reason, don't you."

Xanthir grinned. "Guilty as charged."

The human rolled his eyes before closing them and activating his rune sight. He zoomed in on Rivehn and paused, not knowing exactly what he was seeing. He frowned, confused for a few moments before it finally clicked and his eyes shot wide open in surprise. Hastily, he turned his rune sight off, feeling the blood rush to his face.

Xanthir was watching him curiously.

"It's not what you think it is and we are never discussing this ever again, got it?" When the werewolf frowned, but nodded and turned back to his own notes with a pout, Cyrus let out a slow, shaking breath and tried to keep his face from turning cherry red. No, he wasn't going to think. No thinking. No thinking about the- nonono baaad Cyrus. Bad. No thinking. Mental obliviate.

But the next time he looked at Rivehn he couldn't help but stare with the _knowledge_ that the vampire had some sort of object up his… and that the slight pink hue to his face and the way his mouth would tighten into a line or part slightly or the way his violet eyes were shimmering with hues of amethyst from… from….

It was both unsettling and… and… his face flushed red in mortification and embarrassment. _Arousing_. He'd never… Well, he'd seen Rivehn and Yankovich make out in front of him and reach, ahem, _gratification, _but he'd been studiously avoiding any trains of thought leading along those lines.

He didn't want to even admit it to himself, but…

They were both smoking hot.

He stared down at his notes, biting his lip.

"Um, Cyrus?" Xanthir whispered to him after Cyrus felt the privacy wards go up again. "You might want to cast a scent-hiding spell. You…"

Cyrus blinked before his face flushed again and he quickly cast the spell. A few of his female and male classmates were giving him looks, but he studiously ignored them and focused on the board once again.

He really wished there was a spell for putting down a raging hard on. Damnit! He hated some aspects of being a teenage boy. Fucking hormones. Just the idea of Rivehn's current position was turning him on. And it wasn't even only that. Now his brain wouldn't stop shoving the idea of _himself_ with a… well.

Desperately, he tried to tune back into the lecture.

"-marize, transfiguration spells break many of the 'rules' of magic. You have to… always remember that your equations may be imbalanced, but as long as they follow… the rules of transfiguration construction as described in more detail in Merrow's essays, you should be successful. Now, are there any questions?"

Tentatively, a girl in the front put up her hand. When Rivehn inclined his head in her direction, she spoke. "I know we've been going over this material for the past two weeks, but I'm still having trouble with the execution sequences of transfiguration spells. I can write the arrays for the current state and the desired state, but I still can't make sense of how they come together."

Rivehn smiled slightly, but it held an edge of strain. "That is understandable… Ms. Forthwright. This is a highly advanced area of magic. My goal is for you to be able to create a fully functioning transfiguration by the end of the year. We still have many more types of spells to cover. However, if you plan to continue on into Spell Crafting next year, I would suggest you study this subject matter in more detail during the summer or ask for the tutoring of an advanced student. In Spell Crafting, you must be able to create charms, hexes, curses, transfigurations, and other spells during the duration of the course."

Another hand went up. "And what if we're more interested in going on to Warding instead?"

"Then it is best if you… have a passable knowledge or understanding of how transfiguration structures work, but not necessarily the particulars on creating one. Any other questions?"

And another hand went up. "What percentage will transfiguration be on the final exam?"

Rivehn let out a faintly annoyed sound and summoned a book from his office. Once it landed in his hand, he started flipping through the pages. He stopped after a few moments. "The final exam is divided into two portions: the final project and the test.

"For the final project, you will be given three options to choose from. For example, you may be asked to 'take a common household heating charm and make it into as many deadly variations as you can' to 'create a spell that freezes inanimate objects but nothing living.'

"For the test… It is divided into many sections: vocabulary, grammar, elementary structure recognition, analysis, and creation, and error detection. I will not put anything on the test that we have not covered in class or in your assigned reading.

"To answer your question: due to the wide distribution of spell types we cover during the duration of this course, there will likely be only one specific transfiguration question. I cannot see… it being more than five percent of your overall test mark. However, that does not mean that you do not need to learn it. I expect effort from all my students. If you score below 75% on the final exam you will not be able to use this course as a prerequisite for Spell Crafting or Warding. If you score below 60%, you fail entirely. Remember, the final exam is 50% of your final grade. Lastly, rewrites are available to those willing to pay for them before school begins again in the fall. They are often harder, however, as most teachers have… better things to do with their summer than create a new test for those who failed. So… I would suggest you not score below your desired percentage.

"Any other questions? No? Hand in your homework assignment. Class dismissed." He stood at the front of the class as the students dropped off their work on his desk and departed, reading something in the book in his hands.

Cyrus took his time packing up his things, wanting to ask Rivehn for the names of some students who could tutor him in transfiguration. He waved to Xanthir as the werewolf left before slowly walking down the terraced classroom floor to where Rivehn stood.

"Mr. Obsidian?" Rivehn asked, closing his book. Most of the class had already left. "Is there something you needed?" he asked, his voice strained a bit.

Cyrus nervously bit his lip, incredibly glad his hard on had faded during the lecture on their final exam. "Yeah, actually. I was wondering if I could get a tutor for Runes, or if you knew anyone who'd be willing and… knows what they're talking about."

Rivehn frowned slightly. "You are not behind in the course even after missing two classes. Why do you need a tutor?"

Cyrus sighed. "I've always sucked at transfiguration, and it's not getting any easier even though I'm starting to get the rules. It's just… frustrating, not understanding it as easily as everything else comes to me."

Rivehn hummed thoughtfully. Cyrus couldn't help but think he had a sexy voice. "So it is just transfiguration that you are having difficulty with? Are you taking Transfiguration? The course?"

Cyrus shook his head.

"Very well. I believe there is a student who can help you. Most of my advanced students know only enough on this particular spell type to get by, but Ms. Soterios is an exception. She excels in transfiguration. Unfortunately, I do not have another class with her until Tuesday. I will pass on to her your desire for a tutor then. Would you like me to give her your magi-com number?"

Cyrus blinked. "There's no way to contact her this weekend?"

The vampire shook his head. "No. You could, of course, see if you could contact her through other students. Her full name is Symphennia Soterios."

Cyrus thought about it for a second. "Yeah, can you give her my number?"

The vampire nodded and pulled out his own magi-com. Cyrus was impressed he'd managed to keep a straight face for their entire conversation. He rattled off his number (he'd memorized it during his boring stay in the infirmary, as he hadn't had much else to do).

Rivehn put it into his magi-com and Cyrus put his assignment on the vampire's desk and left with a quick "thanks", incredibly aware of the distracting fact that Rivehn probably had a hard on beneath his suit.

And now he was having a similar problem again, but he had no time to handle it as he was nearly late for Necromancy. Not wanting to be late, he disapparated. He appeared with a quiet pop right outside the classroom and hurried inside. Just in time, too, as Mikhail walked in the moment he sat down.

The class went as badly as could be expected. Mikhail noticed that his control was even worse than usual.

"What has happened since last Friday? I noticed you missed my class on Monday, as well," the elf asked him after he had raised his third flesh-eating zombie in the first ten minutes of class. The rest of the students were giving him a wide berth.

Cyrus sighed. "I… got into an accident. Got magical exhaustion last weekend, and things still aren't… working smoothly." In fact, things were working _terribly_. Or not working at all. It was as if his magical equilibrium was all fucked up. Sure, he'd managed enough control over his natural magic to survive classes, but even that was a little wonky every now and then, and his death magic, which he normally had trouble controlling, was even _worse_.

It was frustrating as hell.

"Magical exhaustion? That is not good. One of the reasons you are having difficulties right now is because the balance of your magic is tipped. If you do not restore equilibrium soon, the chances of your death magic becoming wild and possibly killing you increase."

Cyrus sighed. "Great. What do I do then?"

"Hmm… I would suggest balance. Make the quantity of both within you equal."

Cyrus ran a hand through his hair. "But how do I do that? Safely? Without killing anyone by accident?"

Mikhail reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out a black marble about the size of a tennis ball. He held it out to Cyrus and the human cautiously took it. "That is a stone used for storing death magic for later use. It is a mixture of obsidian and another rare and expensive magical stone. It is very difficult to make, so please do not break it. Simply pour your death magic into the store. If you begin to feel it heat up, you are reaching the limit of its capacity."

Cyrus stared dubiously down at the stone for a moment before shrugging and trying it. He started with a little bit before slowly increasing his output, keeping an eye on his internal balance. When he had drained about half into the stone and felt more balanced, he handed it back. "So, is this going to help?"

Mikhail nodded, turning the stone over in his hands and watching it intently. "Yes. You should find raising two inferi at a time easier now."

Shrugging, Cyrus checked his salt circles before giving it another shot. To his surprise, it worked! He didn't have to concentrate nearly as hard as he usually did! Turning back to Mikhail, a devious idea took root in his mind. If having less death magic made it easier to control… "Professor, what are stones like that called?"

Mikhail paused and looked up, his expression becoming amused. "You would not be able to afford one."

Cyrus widened his eyes innocently. "Really? Well that's too bad. Still, it would be nice to know the name of it anyway." He smiled again with false good-humor.

Mikhail watched him with sharp eyes. "It is called a _Linmeyelle._"

"Linmeyelle? Thanks. What language is that?"

"Elvish. The necromancer who invented it named it after his wife."

Cyrus smiled. "Oh, that was nice of him."

Mikhail snorted and put the stone back into his robes. "Not really. He always referred to her in his notes as 'that witch who sucked the life out of him.' Apparently she was quite the shrew." The elf wandered off to help another student.

The human watched him go, thrown by that ironic bit of history.

"Hey Cyrus," a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

The human resisted the urge to wince. "Hi, Ashawyn." He hadn't seen the ice fae since… well, _last_ Friday. Knowing the probability of this going ugly was high, he put up a privacy ward.

"Where have you been? I've been trying to contact you, but your friend, Tara I believe, refuses to give me your com number."

"Oh, well…" Cyrus refused to meet the fae's eyes, wondering how he was going to explain this but _not_ explain it. "My guardian was hurt, and now he's better, but… Well, it was a complicated week. I haven't even had the chance to try to get in contact with you."

He could feel Ashawyn's eyes on his face. Finally, the fae sighed. "I see… Do you want to finish our date some time? Perhaps this weekend?"

Cyrus's eyes twitched. He had a shitload of catching up to do this weekend, and he didn't think he'd have time for a social call. "I don't know, I'm really busy. I missed a lot of classes this week."

Awkward silence.

Finally, Ashawyn sighed. "If you're blowing me off, just say it. You don't need to invent excuses."

Cyrus turned to him, gaping. "Excuse me?! I've been in a hospital bed for the past five days!"

Ashawyn's eyes widened and he stepped into Cyrus's space, checking him over. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Cyrus sighed and ran a hand over his face. "It's complicated, and I don't want to go into it, okay?"

The ice fae looked hurt and disappointed. "I see. You don't trust me enough to tell me."

Spluttering, Cyrus wondered how this had turned around so royally. "Wha- that's not what I said! Don't put words in my mouth. And did it not even occur to you that I've only known you for, what, a week? The most amount of time we've spent together was on that date, so don't get pissed at _me_ for being a little reluctant to spill everything about my life to you!"

Ashawyn took a step back, hands held up in an attempt to pacify Cyrus's sudden burst of anger. "Sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I just… I find you attractive. And interesting. I want to get to know you better, but it's hard to do that when you keep pushing me back all the time."

Cyrus bit his lip to hold back any more nasty comments that he'd probably regret after four hours of cooling down. He'd never had someone actively _pursuing _him before, and he had no idea how to deal with it. "Look. I understand, but I'm not looking for-"

Ashawyn moved really close, a faint smile curling his lips. "I know you find me attractive. If you're not looking for a _relationship_, there are other options." He ran a hand down Cyrus's chest, and the human immediately flinched away. Ashawyn's eyes narrowed. "That's not the first time you've done that."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Especially not here."

"Why do you recoil from my touch, Cyrus?"

The human scowled at him. "I'm just not touchy feely like you are."

Ashawyn shook his head. "I know you're aroused. I could sense it the moment I got within five feet of you. So why are you still so disgusted by the idea of me touching you?"

Cyrus was beginning to get _annoyed_. "Like I said before, Ashawyn, it's not like I'm going to spill my secrets to you just because you think I'm hot. It doesn't work that way."

The ice fae frowned. "I just find it frustrating! I want to know-"

"You think I _don't?!_" Cyrus yelled, raising his voice for the first time. It didn't matter, really, with the privacy wards up. Before he could wait for a response, he disapparated, too incensed to think clearly.

_oOo_

Tara was studying in his room when he showed up, and his furniture started rattling with accidental magic. All he wanted was a little personal space, and now he couldn't even have that! Did he have to buy a fucking _house_ or something?!

Tara took one look at his face before grabbing her books and falling into the shadow of his bed.

Letting out an angry, but relieved breath at not having blown up at Tara, he locked his door with every spell he knew, pulled himself under the covers, and turned off his lights with a thought. If a vampire paid him a visit that night, they were getting decapitated. Period.

He got about four hours of quiet before someone started knocking hesitantly at his door. Grumbling to himself, he tossed off his covers and prepared to tell whoever was on the other side of that door to bugger off if they knew what was good for them.

It was Ashawyn. He opened his mouth to tell the fae off, but Ashawyn cut him off.

"Wait, just… before you get mad at me, wait."

Cyrus scowled. "I'm already mad at you, but fine. Sure. Go ahead. Make it worse. _What?_"

Ashawyn smiled, but it was strained. "You really don't make it easy for a guy."

Cyrus just stared at him blankly, too tired and taxed from the past two weeks to feel any sympathy.

"Look, I… I don't know what you want from me. I've put myself out there, I know you find me attractive, too, but… Everything I say and do just offends you. What am I doing wrong?"

"Well, first off," a familiar voice came from behind them, "you're getting right in his face and space. Cyrus doesn't like that. He's a very private person."

Cyrus groaned and looked behind him to see the shadow of Tara lounging on his bed. He turned on the lights with a thought.

"Second, why don't you try just being his friend first? Hang out with him without trying to get in his pants all the time. Help him with his school work."

Cyrus glanced at Ashawyn to see the fae soaking in her advice with rapt attention. He desperately wanted to bash someone's head against the wall.

"Third, he's human! Stop treating this like a fae courtship. Humans don't do the same pheromone thing you lot do. They're all about social interaction, who has what in common with who, etc.

"Fourth, not only is he human, he's a prudish human! You say cock to his face and he turns red. See? Red."

Cyrus, whose cheeks were indeed burning, glared at Tara.

"So for god's sake! Turn down the heat! Cyrus isn't the type to fuck you just because you're hot. Get over yourself, playboy."

Ashawyn blinked. "What is a play boy?"

Tara grinned. "Human pop culture word for someone who gets laid a lot and has no trouble picking up dates. A womanizer. Except in this case, you chase boys."

Cyrus wanted to burrow under his covers in abject humiliation. This conversation was _not_ taking place in his doorway.

"Oh. Well, thank you for the advice. I'm afraid I've never tried to date a human before." He grinned bashfully, and Cyrus found himself overwhelmed by how cute he was as if this were the first time they'd met all over again. Except now his nose was beginning to tickle. Like a sneeze was coming. Great.

"Yeah. I could tell. And stop using so much bloody glamour! You trying to give me a nose bleed?"

Cyrus, whose nose was starting to itch and tickle even more, glared. "Glamour?! You're using glamour on me?!"

Ashawyn grinned sheepishly. "Is it working?"

Before Cyrus could come up with a suitably angry remark, he had exploded into a sneezing fit of the likes he'd never before experienced. After five consecutive sneezes, he lost his balance. Someone caught him, but he still couldn't see clearly.

"What?" he murmured to himself as someone lowered him carefully to the ground.

"-rus? Cyrus? Can you hear me?"

Tara was kneeling in front of him, a worried expression on her face.

Cyrus blinked. "Yeah, just… felt dizzy for a second there."

Tara bit her lip in concern. "Should I take you back to Healer Svea?"

"Wha? No, that's not… not necessary. I don't think… I'm fine, it was just a dizzy spell."

"You're sure? This is the first time this has happened?"

"Yeah." He blinked and looked at the arm around his shoulders, holding him up. Huh. He wasn't repulsed by it. That was… new. Maybe because he was all fuzzy in the head. Felt like he had… congestion or something.

He looked up and got the full blast of… whatever it was. Ashawyn was really hot. With his pretty ice blue eyes, and his nice black hair. Cyrus kind of missed his own black hair. Well, not really, but the color looked really good on Ashawyn.

"You know… you're really hot," the human said with a smile, leaning into Ashawyn's hold. He didn't see the look Tara and the ice fae exchanged, so focused was he on those pretty blue eyes.

"Ashawyn? Turn off your glamour. Completely. _Now._"

Cyrus blinked. Frowned. "What the hell?" he exclaimed defensively, pushing out of Ashawyn's embrace.

Tara shrugged. "Don't look at me. I have no idea what the hell that was. It was almost as if your reaction to the glamour was postponed and then hit you twice as hard. Thalla, has this ever happened before?"

The fae shook his head. "No. Never. Well, not that I know of. It was almost… like an allergic reaction."

There seemed to be more being communicated through their eyes that Cyrus couldn't decipher, but he couldn't bring himself to care at that moment. He wanted sleep.

"Alright, the show's over," Cyrus grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. "I want sleep and alone time. Now. Bye."

Tara watched him for a moment, concerned, before nodding. "Alright. You heard him fae-boy, let's go." She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out before he could get in so much as a word edgewise, closing the door behind her.

Cyrus relocked his door and climbed under the covers, this time putting a silencing ward on the door too.

_oOo_

The next week of classes passed smoothly enough. Cyrus managed to catch up on most of his work, even though Ashawyn seemed dead set on 'visiting' him now. Eventually they settled into a comfortable silence, each doing their own work. Occasionally Cyrus would make lunch or dinner for them – and Xanthir when he popped by – and other times he and Ashawyn would go to the Main Hall, where more often than not they ran into both Xanthir and Tara.

He hadn't come within twenty feet of Yalmireth since the demon's blow up the day Severus had been captured, which was probably a good thing, as the demon didn't seem to be particularly happy about Ashawyn's sudden addition to the group.

Cyrus didn't care, though. He'd dealt with enough angry friends (Ron, Ron, and _Ron_) that he knew the only way to fix things was if Yalmireth himself pulled out the scorpion that had had crawled up his ass and died. When, or _if_, that happened, and only then, would he consider extending the hand of friendship again. Yalmireth needed to get over whatever this was first.

It was after that week, two weeks after the rescue of Severus, that it happened.

"Cyrus?" Tara asked after she'd appeared in his room Saturday morning.

The human spat the toothpaste out of his mouth and tightened the towel around his waist. "Yeah?"

"Xanthir's missing."

Cyrus stared at her. "What? What do you mean, 'missing'?"

She scowled. "I haven't been able to get a hold of him since he met with his pack yesterday. I've been phoning his magi-com every half an hour, and it's gone to voice message every time."

Cyrus sighed. "Great. Rescue one person and another goes missing. I couldn't get more than two weeks of peace?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "Maybe the world decided you'd had enough peace and this was your punishment." They both laughed humorlessly for a moment before becoming serious again.

"Well, he's with his pack, right? That should mean he's safe?"

Tara shook her head. "No. He's not really… on good terms with his uncle, the Alpha."

Cyrus frowned. "I thought he was going to apprentice under his uncle after graduating."

"Oh no, not that uncle. That uncle is a bit of an outcast from the pack. The Alpha on the other hand, is a right dick. I've had the displeasure of meeting him once before. He's never approved of Xanthir's friendship with me, but I told him straight to his face he couldn't do a fuckin' thing about it. He was pissed, to say the least." She grinned, staring off into space in thought.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Okay, enough spacing out about ass kicking's and insults. We need to figure out where he is, right?"

"Oh no, I can find out where he is."

The human blinked slowly. "Okay, now see, that doesn't make any sense. Because you came up to me five minutes ago saying that Xanthir is _missing_."

"He _is_ missing. Just not from me. I came to you because I need your help to go rescue him from his pack."

"Oh. Well, why didn't you just say that?" he asked, frustrated.

She grinned. "Because I knew your reaction would have been priceless. And it was."

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

"No problem. You ready to go on a manhunt? It'll take me about five minutes to get the blood magic tracing seal working."

Cyrus blinked. "Tracking seal? What the hell is that?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, unless suddenly you can't speak English."

"Whatever. Do you have one of those things on _me?_"

"Yep. Put it on you while you were unconscious the day of the Trial."

"Wh- How the hell did you get into my room?!"

"I know you use those pretty lights of yours to get rid of all the shadows, but there _are_ other ways, Cy."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll get ready and let's get this over with. Yeesh."

"What's got you in such a bad mood? You got a date with Ashy this weekend?"

"As a matter of fact, he was taking me on a hike," Cyrus grumbled, pulling out his magi-com and starting to punch in a quick text to say he had to cancel. Friend emergency and all that. And that they would go on their hike when he got back.

He and Ashawyn had come to a sort of… understanding, over the past week. Once the apprentice had stopped being all weird and had just hung out with him, Cyrus had found himself warming up to him. Ashawyn knew not to touch him, they did homework together, occasionally they ate dinner, and everything worked out okay. This weekend was supposed to be a 'not-date'. Ashawyn was going to take him walking through one of the faerie forests that he'd only ever heard stories about. After being reassured that it was nothing like the Forbidden Forest ("Nothing's going to bite my head off, is it? Or bite me? Or inject me with poison, spin me in a web, and eat me slowly and painfully?"), he'd thought about it for about a day before deciding to do it.

Now Ashawyn would just have to be understanding and _not_ take it personally. He sent the text and started dressing in his basilisk skin armor.

Ten minutes later, he was ready for whatever he could think of, and Tara had created an odd… bloodied crystal looking thing.

"What the hell is that?"

"It sort of works like dowsing. You hold it over a map and the crystal moves toward the owner of the blood. In this case, it's honed into the blood seal."

Cyrus blinked and watched as she held the crystal over one of her maps and found Xanthir's 'apparent' location in less than a minute. "Useful. Can you teach me how to do that?"

"Advanced blood magic. It would take years for you to get far enough to do that."

Letting out a disappointed sigh, he pulled his buzzing magi-com out of his pocket and read the text waiting for him.

_Understand. Will see you when you get back. Be safe?_

_Ashawyn_

He smiled. Well, that was certainly better than the time Ashawyn had accused Cyrus of blowing him off.

_Sure. Thanks. Will keep in touch._

_Cy_

"You done texting your pretty boy? We have a lot of ground to cover."

Cyrus frowned. "Can't you just shadow walk us there?"

"I'm going to, but it's not exactly smart to just barge into a situation without taking a look at things, and it's not like shadow walking is instantaneous travel. Disapparition is a lot faster. For _me_ it will be a lot of ground to cover. You're just along for the ride."

Cyrus grunted, putting his phone on silent. Wolf ears were sensitive, after all, and a vibration still made noise. Casting a quick slew of spells to prevent detection, he ran though his mental list of things-not-to-forget. He had just about everything. Aside from needing to stock up on a bit of water when he came back, he was good to go.

"When are we leaving?"

"When you're ready. I already packed."

"Well, I'm ready, so lets-" He was cut off as Tara, without another word, just yanked him into a shadow.

They spent what seemed like five whole minutes in shadow before Tara finally pulled them out into the middle of a forest. There wasn't much snow on the ground, probably due to the thick foliage above them. It was already starting to get dark out, so Tara moved them in and out of the shadows as they looked for… whatever it was Tara was looking for. Finally, they came to a stop in front of what looked to be a cave.

_~:What's that?:~_ he sent telepathically, hoping she'd understand his intent even if she still couldn't understand what he was saying.

_::I'll assume… asking the obvious. That is a cave. It's the… for Xanthir's pack. I want you to stay here, and I'll slip inside… what's going on. Okay?::_

_~:Sure…:~_

She disappeared in a flash of darkness, and Cyrus stayed as still as he could to prevent detection. He'd cast an invisibility spell, a silencing spell, and scent-hiding spells on him, but you never knew with werewolves. You had to be careful.

"Well look what we have here."

Cyrus swore in his head and craned his neck around, coming face to face with a tall, big man wearing no shirt or shoes.

"What's a human doing in the forest in the middle of our territory?" he asked, leaning closer to Cyrus and sniffing. "Nice spellwork, kid, but my nose is stronger than that. Either you're a shoddy wizard or you need to find better charms but I must say, you _do_ smell _divine._ For a male. I prefer women myself, but I've been known to make a few… exceptions."

Cyrus wondered whether it would be smart or stupid to start casting spells at this point.

"Go on. Get inside. The Alpha's already caught your little vampire friend."

Great. Letting out a slow breath, Cyrus inched his way into the cave with a grimace.

The Were behind him was completely silent as he moved across the ground, and after a few minutes of walking they were deeper into the tunnel than Cyrus ever wanted to go.

"You leave, we kill your vampire friend. Get it?" the werewolf had said during the first minute of travel.

Cyrus was considering being stupid at that point, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Tara. She hadn't left _him_ after all.

Finally, after what had to be fifteen minutes of travel, the cave opened up into a larger, oval-shaped room with torches spaced unevenly across the walls.

"Finally, Urga. I was beginning to think you'd eaten him."

Seeing Tara chained to the wall, Cyrus made to go to her, but was caught by the werewolf behind him. "Now, now, can't have you that close together. You might get ideas." He did something quick with his legs that knocked Cyrus's own out from underneath him with ridiculous ease. He hit the ground with a thump. Spitting dirt out of his mouth, he pushed himself upright to come face to face with a set of golden eyes.

He froze.

The werewolf grinned. "Well, well. So the human has some survival instincts after all. Why don't you show us all how smart you are and tell us who you are, where you're from, and more importantly, why you're here."

Cyrus glanced over at Tara, but the werewolf gripped his chin tightly until the human looked back at him.

"Now, now, none of that. Can't have her making all your decisions."

"Stop it, Uncle. They're here for me."

The strong hand released his chin and Cyrus grimaced at the bruises he could feel beginning to form. He healed them with an absent thought, watching the drama unfold. Xanthir was standing at the head of the cave, an angry look on his face.

"Xanthir. How wonderful of you to join us. Perhaps now that I have these two as incentive you will share the information I need to know?"

The werewolf said nothing, and the Alpha growled angrily.

"You will tell me who can heal the younglings of their silver poisoning, Xanthir, or I will rip you limb from limb after I've had your friends for supper."

_~Toki Mirage~_

The end of another chapter brings another cliffhanger. Not as bad as the last, I hope?

Huge thanks to _**Marmee Noir**_ for betaing this chapter!! She did a wonderful job helping me out in Roos's absence. Send healing vibes in Roos's direction! Hopefully once she's feeling better and done her 6 essays from hell she will return to the BS musing. U.U (is sad)

FYI – I'm working on a second installment of R/Y smut for you all to celebrate the writing of 200,000 words, and the reaching of 3,000 reviews and 400,000 hits. WOOT! Thanks to everyone for supporting the fic and feeding the author! I'm sorry it took a week to finish the editing for this chapter, but c'est la vie.

Thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter TwentyOne: Awkward Measurements

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty-One:

_oOo_

Cyrus watched the drama unfold in utter confusion. Silver poisoning? And what the heck was it with this werewolf threatening to _eat_ them? That was just nasty.

Xanthir's hands clenched at his sides. "I already told you, Alpha. Most healers don't have the power necessary to heal this level of silver poisoning."

"And yet here you stand before me after having been poisoned yourself. I have already sent a group to observe the mansion where you encountered the poison, and it has been abandoned. Two weeks after you broke into this place, we find the contaminant in our water supply! You are indirectly responsible for this!" His lips pulled back from his teeth, flashing sharp canines. "Why do you condemn pups in your own pack to die? Why will you not provide me the name of the healer who healed you?!" he boomed, voice echoing in the cavern dangerously.

Xanthir's expression was completely blank with restrained anger. "If you had let me leave, I would have asked them if they would volunteer their services, but instead you've kept me here to try to get a _name?_ What were you planning to do, drag them here against their will? What the hell kind of approach is that?! Why drag a reluctant healer here when you can have a willing one?!"

The Alpha growled, the low rumbles echoing in the space and sounding much louder than they actually were. "I couldn't chance that he- or she- would say no, and you are well aware of that!"

Xanthir snarled. "You've been isolated from the rest of Other Realm society for too long, Uncle, if you believe that. Fully trained Healers are respected and rare. Healers that can heal multiple species even more so. You may have already irrevocably damaged relations that you have no awareness of because you acted so rashly-"

The Alpha moved faster than Cyrus's eyes could see, slamming the other werewolf against the stone wall with a force that would have crushed a human's bones instantly. As the two glared and growled at each other, Cyrus frowned. Xanthir hadn't disclosed the human's name to his pack? Was he worried that they would kidnap Cyrus? From the direction this argument was going, it seemed a likely possibility.

But Cyrus couldn't in good conscience let children die if there was something he could do about it. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tara cut him off.

_::Don't be an idiot. You do _not_… get involved in werewolf pack politics.::_

Cyrus scowled. It was times like these he wished he could communicate back.

_~:The children.:~_

Tara's expression was completely blank. The human clenched his teeth in frustration. He _needed_ her to understand him. His mind was already unburied. There _had_ to be a way to get his point across to her. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sensation of when Tara communicated with him. Using his magic, he tried to make his 'voice' sound like hers.

_::Ch… ren.::_

Tara's eyes widened. _::You spoke!::_

_::Children.::_

He brought a hand up to his head in pain and released the magic. What the fuck was that? It felt like his brain had been trying to fit through a strainer.

_::Hey, you okay? That looked like it hurt.::_

Cyrus sent her a look. _No, you think?_

_::Right. Children? What about them.::_

Cyrus tried to convey what he wanted to say through his eyes, but it didn't seem to work too well.

_::You like kids? Anyway, Xanthir won't let your name go, so don't worry-::_

_~:Argh! No, I want to help them!:~_

_::Yeah, I didn't get that. Just keep your mouth shut and I'll get us all out of here safely.::_

Cyrus wanted to hit something. Preferably Tara. She wasn't stupid, so why the fuck wasn't she getting his cues? Getting frustrated, he clenched his hands in the dirt. Looked like he'd have to try again. Closing his eyes, he almost let out a moan at the pain that spiked through his head. Oh Merlin.

_::Want… to help.::_ He cut the connection with a gasp, gripping his temples.

_::You _want_ to help them?!::_ she asked incredulously. _::You don't even know these werewolves. Xanthir's… called the lot of them a bunch of assholes, too. He's been… get free of this pack for ages. Why the hell would you want to help them?::_

Cyrus glared at her, massaging his temples.

Tara glared back for a few seconds before she rolled her eyes. _::Fucking goddamned bleedin' heart- Fine! Just, let me… damned talking.::_

"Hey Alpha."

The werewolf snarled at Xanthir a bit more before slamming him into the wall once more and stalking towards Tara. He tilted his head at the vampire. "Are you ready to give up some names?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "Well, before I do, I wanna make sure that you're not gonna just kidnap them for the rest of their lives because you don't have a competent healer. Or give their name up to another pack or put them in danger. Can you make that sort of promise?"

The Alpha's eyes narrowed. "It is my job as Alpha to ensure the safety of my pack."

Tara snorted. "If you'd really been plannin' on keepin' your pack safe, you would've gotten a contract with the Aengar by now."

A growl echoed through the room. "Unfortunately, not every pack is capable of promising sufficient goods in order to secure a contract."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"We do not have the resources. Most of our pack members only make enough money to support our community, and we are not farmers. We have nothing of value to trade."

"Why can't you trade blood? That's what they're most interested in."

"I have been told that they already have sufficient quantities of werewolf blood being traded. We have nothing else to offer of value. So, will you give me the name of this healer or not?"

Tara raised an eyebrow. "Only if you answer my original question. Are you going to let them go after they finish or are you going to keep them here or kidnap them again at a later date? I think you could work something out if you're reasonable. But keeping us locked up here isn't exactly going to put you in their good books." She grinned.

The Alpha stared at her intensely for a few moments before glancing at Xanthir. "Very well. I give you my word that the healer will be treated well during their stay here, will not be forced to remain, will not be kidnapped in the future… and that we will not distribute their name or put them in danger. Does that satisfy you?"

Tara and he had a staring match for a nearly half a minute before she finally nodded. "You might wanna help your new healer off the dirt floor. And be gentle! I think you mighta roughed him up a bit."

The Alpha spun around and stared at Cyrus, who was indeed still sitting on the ground. His legs were a bit sore, but there was no lasting damage. The look of surprise on the werewolf's face was indeed amusing, though Cyrus didn't let his mouth so much as twitch.

Tara had no such compunction.

"You? You're the one who healed Xanthir?"

Cyrus nodded.

The werewolf nodded and grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him to his feet as if he weighed nothing. "Keep the vampire restrained. Xanthir, you're coming with us."

Cyrus let himself be gently prodded and nudged in the right direction, not quite comfortable with how much the werewolf touched him. Finally, after the fifth flinch, the hands went away and were replaced by voiced instructions. When they finally came to a room farther into the cave systems, the Alpha went inside first, giving Cyrus a look that the human couldn't quite decipher. Wasn't quite sure he _wanted_ to decipher. Instead, he focused on the task ahead of him.

With his luck, he was going to be stuck here for the next week trying to heal kids. Or he was going to fall sick again.

"Um…" he began tentatively, not sure exactly how much he should mention about his… nearly dying. "I've just recently recovered from some injuries myself, so I'm not sure I'm going to be able to completely heal everyone today. I may have to work out some sort of daily visit… type… scenario…" He trailed off, staring into those extremely intense and inhuman eyes.

The Alpha leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "There are sixteen children in the next room who are all suffering from the most advanced case of silver poisoning I have ever come across. Three have already died."

Cyrus bit his lip. The werewolf said nothing about Cyrus being ill, so the human could only assume the Alpha had actually heard him.

"You will… I would _like_ you to do your best to save all of them. If that requires multiple visits over the span of a week or longer, that is acceptable. Do you… require _compensation_ for this?" The muscles in his bare chest flexed, in order to intimidate or because of nervousness, Cyrus had no clue. Reading the Alpha was like trying to read cuneiform. He knew nothing about it.

"Er, no. Besides what Tara already covered."

The Alpha's eyebrows rose. "Really? No money, no favors, no nothing? I find it hard to believe you would heal sixteen children for no payment whatsoever."

Cyrus shrugged. "I don't need money, and I'm hardly going to let them all _die_. That would just be… wrong." The Alpha stared at him oddly, as if he were a new species of bug he'd never squashed before. It was disconcerting. "So… the next room? I'd like to get started."

The werewolf said nothing and opened the door next to the wall he'd been leaning against. He swung it open and watched Cyrus expectantly.

Mentally shrugging, the human walked into the room and was immediately shocked by the smell of sickness. There were currently three people going around the room helping the kids to drink some water. Half the time they were puking it back up. They were just children… their bodies didn't even have the strength to fight off the poisoning.

"How are they doing, Macey?" the Alpha asked quietly from where he stood behind Cyrus.

One of the women looked up with a grimace. "Not good. We lost another one fifteen minutes ago."

Cyrus tried to take in a calming breath, but the smell negated whatever calm it was supposed to provide. "How did it only get the kids? And so many of them," he murmured softly to himself as he went to the kid closest to him. He could faintly hear Svea's voice in the back of his head giving instructions on how to deal with large quantities of patients. He needed to update himself on their current conditions so he could figure out who was sickest, and treat them first. Placing his hand on the boy's head and chest, he sent his energy into the body to detect exactly how far along the degradation had progressed.

"They were playing by the creek. We often drink from it, but we keep stores of water inside the caves as well. Most of the adults drink from there, rather than open water. We had no idea it had been contaminated," the Alpha growled quietly, mindful of the children around him.

Cyrus grimaced, moving quickly through the room to assess them all. When he finished, he immediately moved to the smallest and youngest, a little girl with blond hair clutching at a misshapen doll. He placed his hands on her chest. "I need someone here gathering the poison as I pull it from her body."

"Macey?"

"Yes, Caylor," the woman said softly, bringing a chair to the small bed. "Would you like to sit, Healer?"

Cyrus blinked and got off his knees to take the chair. "Oh, thanks, but I'm not an actual Healer. I'm a student."

"But you healed Xanthir, did you not?" the Alpha, Caylor, cut in.

"Well, yes-"

"And you are going to heal all these children?"

"Well, I hope to-"

"Then we will call you Healer. Xanthir! I need a word with you."

Cyrus glanced behind him to catch a glimpse of orange hair before the door closed behind them. Turning his attention back to the dying girl before him, he closed his eyes and put his hands back on her chest. Focusing first on her brain, he pulled the poison out as quickly as he could without hurting her. She whimpered softly, but didn't move or wake.

Carefully gauging his magic usage and how much he had left, he completely healed the little girl and sent her into a deep sleep. "When she wakes up, she should feel as right as rain," he said to the woman beside him. She nodded, tightly gripping the bowl of poison in her hands.

"Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to heal them all tonight, not unless…" He frowned. It was possible, wasn't it? They had fed him magic before. Kind of like giving him a blood transfusion.

"Not unless?" Macey was looking at him both in concern and wonder.

Cyrus shifted nervously and moved his chair to the next worst patient. "Well, it's a long shot. But either way, I'm not sure if I'll have the mental stamina to do it. This procedure requires a lot of concentration and is very taxing. We'll see how I am in a bit."

He managed to heal the three children who were the most sick in a few hours, but he was sweating like crazy and beginning to tire. After that he started cleaning out the vital organs of all the other children, not wanting one of them to die while he recovered. By the time he got to the last one, he was dead on his feet and ravenous. And his body wasn't liking him for it. He collapsed against one of the walls, absently drinking a little of the water Macey brought him. When he tried to eat some bread and cheese, though, he ended up puking it into a bucket. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes for a moment.

"-rus? Cyrus? I saw those eyes twitching. Anybody home?" Tara's familiar voice cut through his tired haze. He could feel her shaking him, so he peaked open an eye and made a questioning grunt. Was he in a bed? Last he remembered he was puking against the wall. "Oh good, you're awake. You've been sleeping for five hours. Macey insists you need water and something in your stomach. Why didn't you stop for breaks, you idiot?! Standard healing procedure! Arg, I oughta throw you in a box somewhere to keep you from killing yourself," she muttered to herself.

"What's wrong with him? I haven't seen a healer become physically ill from a healing before," Macey asked softly.

"What's wrong with him? What's _wrong_ with him? I'll tell you what's wrong with him! He nearly died two weeks ago, and his body is still recovering from a massive shock! They still don't know what the fuck's _wrong_ with him, and here you are asking him to heal _fifteen children_ from poisoning. I'm surprised he has any magic left at all!"

"Not done yet," Cyrus croaked out, and immediately found himself with a glass of water held against his lips. He gingerly took a sip and pushed himself upright, rubbing at his aching head. Fuck. He felt like shit. His stomach growled. "Got any food?" he asked Macey.

She nodded and quickly went to a sack against the wall. She pulled a small loaf of bread from it and brought it back to him with a smile. Nodding in thanks, he ripped off a small piece and began gingerly chewing, not wanting a repeat of earlier. The taste of acid in his mouth was disgusting, but he wasn't going to waste magic in cleaning it out.

"Whaddya mean you're not done yet?" Tara barked unhappily. Macey shot her a dark look as some of the kids in the room started shifting in their sleep.

Cyrus caught on to the werewolf's irritation. Before Macey could say anything, which would probably have incensed Tara further, he softly ordered, "Tara. Keep it down."

She glared at him for a moment before crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine," she muttered. "Now answer the damned question."

Cyrus sighed and took the glass of water Macey held out to him. "I didn't have enough magic or concentration to finish. My reserves are nearly depleted. I got a little back in my sleep, but not enough to finish." He sighed. "I was hoping you'd be able to help with that. Can you do that magic transfer thing?"

Tara's eyebrows rose. "Well… I suppose I could. I refuse to until you've gotten a full twelve hours sleep, though."

Cyrus shook his head. "No, give it to me now. I want to be sure it's absorbed and converted into my own magic before I start healing again tomorrow. I've made sure all the kids are stable enough to survive for about a day." He turned to Macey. "If one of them starts failing, though, I want you to wake me up."

She narrowed her eyes pensively, and he returned to chewing on his bread, trying not to yawn. He really was dead tired.

"Fine," Tara finally conceded, not looking at all happy about it. Nonetheless, she plunked herself down on the side of his bed and starting making the transfer.

"I don't mean to…" Macey began hesitantly. Tara paid her no mind, but Cyrus looked at her curiously. "I mean, I don't mean to say that… I thought it was impossible to transfer magic between species? That vampire magic was different than human?"

Cyrus nodded. "It is. I'm just… different than most humans." When he gave no indication of explaining further by shoving another piece of bread in his mouth, she nodded and let the subject drop.

Tara finished the transfer just as his stomach decided it didn't want any more bread, so Cyrus thanked her and shimmied back under the covers. He fell asleep within minutes.

When he woke up again, it was under his own power rather than the shaking hand of someone else. Soft voices murmured, but he couldn't seem to make out what they said. Letting out a big yawn, he sat up and pushed off the covers, rubbing the grit from his eyes and checking his magical stores. He had about a quarter filled now, as more had regenerated in his sleep. He figured it'd be enough to finish the poison removal.

"Healer! You're awake," Macey said softly, coming to his side with a glass of water. He accepted it with a croaked 'thanks' and guzzled it down. He was definitely feeling a lot better in comparison to last time.

"Where's Tara?" he asked, glancing around the room. A few of the children were awake and eating, though a few still looked quite sick.

"She's with Xanthir."

Cyrus nodded. "Can you let her know I'm awake and I hope to be finished up here in a few more hours?"

Macey nodded and quietly went to the door. She spoke softly with someone on the other side before returning.

Cyrus slowly pushed himself to his feet, checking his balance. He felt gross. Gauging that he probably had enough magic for a cleansing charm, he pulled out his phoenix wand and tapped his head. The spell felt a lot like ants running all over his skin, but he felt a lot better afterwards. Pulling on his basilisk skin boots, he cast a surveying eye over the children. "Who's the sickest at the moment?"

Macey pointed to the corner. "Ainel hasn't started vomiting again, but she hasn't been able to walk like the other children."

Cyrus nodded and went to the bed.

The little girl looked up at him hopefully. "Are you going to fix me?" she asked softly, nervously pulling at the sheets.

Cyrus smiled. "That's right. In about half an hour, you'll be feeling all better. Do you think you can lay still for that long?"

She nodded with the cutest little determined look on her face. Cyrus couldn't help but smile. She was a brave little werewolf.

He sat in the chair Macey brought to him and got to work.

After Cyrus finished healing the last of the children, and they'd given him an enthusiastic 'goodbye', Macey herded him back to the main chamber where both Tara and Xanthir were waiting for him. Along with Caylor.

"You're done? All of them?"

Cyrus nodded, not sure whether or not to feel insulted by the look of surprise and disbelief on Caylor's face. "I'd like to come back in a few days, though, to check up on them. I don't think I missed anything, but you never know. Each patient is different. One of them might have complications from such long exposure to the poison. There's always the problem of lasting tissue damage, too. I can heal that, and I _have_ healed most of it, but it's best to leave the healings for a few days to see if their bodies can completely recover on their own first."

The Alpha nodded, leaning back in his chair. Or was it throne? "I would be… grateful to have you back. Xanthir will bring you in three days." Caylor gave the other werewolf a look and the Shikaan student bowed his head slightly in acquiescence. "Thank you," he finally said, a little stilted.

Cyrus nodded in acknowledgement, rather surprised that Caylor was being so… placid. From what Tara had been saying, he was a real dick. But then he remembered the first time they'd met… was it because he was considered a 'healer' in their eyes now?

"The three of you may leave."

Tara snagged them both by the elbows and pulled them into the shadows of the dimly lit cave, taking them back to Shikaan. They appeared in Xanthir's room, and immediately Cyrus went about plundering Xanthir's cold box. The werewolf ate enough off his own table that he was sure it wasn't a huge problem. To his surprise, however, there was next to nothing in it. Did Xathir only eat at the Main Hall and with Cyrus then? Making a thoughtful and disappointed hum, he went back into the main living area. Tara and Xanthir were talking quietly to each other.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

They both looked up. Tara shot a glance at the werewolf, but Xanthir kept his eyes on Cyrus. Finally, it was Tara that spoke. "Well, we've been talking about the ramifications of you healing most of the children in the pack."

The human frowned. "Ramifications? What kind of ramifications?"

Tara moved over to the bed and perched herself on the frame at the foot of the bed. "Well… you could say there's some bad blood between Caylor and Xanthir…" she trailed off and looked at the werewolf uncomfortably.

Xanthir was scowling. "My father used to be Alpha until _Uncle_ killed him to take his position. I've been trying to get out of the pack ever since, but Caylor won't let me. So I was hoping to get out by apprenticing to my other Uncle in warding. Once I can get a job and support myself, it'll be easier for me to leave."

Cyrus's mouth fell open. "He killed your…" Well… fuck. That… there weren't even words to describe how much that sucked. "But he was so… why was he so nice to me then? I mean, if he's this complete dick like you say, and I'm not saying that he's _not_, I just…" He trailed off awkwardly.

The werewolf crossed his arms over his chest. "You're the unofficial healer of the pack, now. Of _course_ he's going to be nice to you. He wants you to come back! With the limitations Tara established in your contract, he-"

"Wait, contract? _What?_"

"When Tara told him he couldn't kidnap you and all that stuff she was bargaining with him. So you have a contract with the pack now. They can't give out your name, hurt you, force you to stay and be their healer, or kidnap you. So the only way Caylor is going to be able to get you to come back and help them out is if he's _nice_ to you and finds something that he can bargain with for your services. In fact, he should have _already_ bargained with you, so why don't you already know this?"

Cyrus's mouth fell open, and he floundered for a few moments. "W-wha-we-what the hell! I never made any contract with him! He asked me what I wanted to heal the fifteen kids and I told him I didn't want anything. I never said that I'd keep coming back!"

Xanthir nodded. "He's probably going to wait until you return in three days to say anything. But he _will_ try to make a deal with you. Competent Healers are expensive and rare, and there aren't many werewolves that have the right kind of temperament to become one. There are more fae and elves in the profession. So _when_ he tries to set up a contract with you, be careful. He might try to trick you into agreein' to somethin' that you won't wanna do."

Cyrus let out a frustrated breath of air. It was never ending. What was it with these people and making deals and favors and all this contract crap? Tara did it all the time, but he'd thought it was a vampire thing, not an… Other Realm thing. "Alright. Fine. Thanks for the heads up." He ran a hand through his hair and caught sight of Xanthir and Tara exchanging looks out of the corner of his eye. Whatever. He just didn't want to think about this anymore.

And then Yalmireth chose that moment to walk through the door. Cyrus froze, hand in the middle of massaging some tension out of his neck.

The demon glanced at him, eyes a dark murky gray, before turning to Xanthir. "Xan, I am glad you're back. Where were you Friday and Saturday?"

Xanthir chuckled nervously, glancing at both Tara and Cyrus and seeing the looks on their faces. "Ah, well. Pack business."

The demon nodded. "I see. Would you like to study together?"

Cyrus, deciding he had better things to do than be ignored by a demon that used to be his friend, walked to the door and left. He was a few meters down the hallway when Xanthir called out to him. He turned around, face hard. He wasn't sure exactly how he felt about… everything.

Xanthir jogged up to him, Tara not far behind walking at a more sedate pace. The werewolf grimaced at the look on his face. "Look, you're both my friends, and I know Yalmireth is being a dick, but I don't just abandon friends. I… I don't have many, and… and your friendship means a lot to me." He smiled half-heartedly. "Caylor beat the shit out of me for a day because I didn't want to tell him your name."

Cyrus's hard shell cracked a bit. "Why didn't you? Why not just tell him? Kids in your pack were dying. You can't have held Caylor's… situation against them."

The werewolf looked torn. "I… I…"

After it looked like Xanthir couldn't articulate what he wanted to say, Tara stepped in. "Look, Cyrus. He's been on shaky terms with the pack for a long time, and you're a _friend_ to him. I know you don't wanna hear this, but friends are higher on the list of priorities for Xanthir, not pack."

Cyrus frowned. "So he would have just let fifteen kids die? Why didn't he just make a deal like you did? One of them had already died during the time we were captured."

Tara scowled. "Look, Cyrus. This is how it is in Other Realm. We can't all have bleeding hearts like you do. It's every man, woman, vampire, werewolf, fae for him or herself. Xanthir's been estranged from his pack since he was six. People die everyday. You can't save everyone, and if you try to, people _will_ take advantage of you. This isn't Human Realm. You need to get that in your head."

Cyrus bit his lip and looked away. "I… I may be able to sort of see your side of things, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to just change my beliefs."

Tara rolled her eyes and shook her head, but affection quirked her lips slightly. "Wouldn't expect any less from you," she said with a smirk.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Good."

Xanthir worried his lower lip with his teeth. "Are we good?" he asked hesitantly.

Cyrus just watched the werewolf for a moment. "So, you're friends with both of us? Not taking sides?"

Xanthir shook his head rapidly. "Nope. Not taking sides."

Cyrus chewed on his lip. "Fine. I guess I can… get over it. I just wish he… arg. I don't even want to talk about how much this whole situation irritates me."

Xanthir smiled half-heartedly. "Yalmireth just isn't used to… having friends. And when he thought someone else was… threatening to take away what he's been working so hard for, he got angry."

Cyrus scowled. "And why hasn't he just apologized already? Water under the bridge?"

The werewolf winced. "Because he doesn't think he's in the wrong. And that's the whole problem. I've tried to talk to him for the past two weeks, ever since I got out of the infirmary, but… He's as stubborn as you are. Just… give him time. He'll come around eventually."

Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah. Right. And I'll just wait for that miraculous day. I have homework to do, so I'll see you later Xanthir." He turned around and stalked off, feeling even more agitated than when he originally escaped the room.

Footsteps had him craning his head around, and he saw Tara watching him with a weird expression on her face as she trailed behind him. He mentally shrugged and kept walking until he'd reached his room. He unlocked it with a twist of magic and let Tara close it, his mind focused on his kitchen. He grabbed an apple and started munching angrily on it, staring through the window in his kitchen out onto the grounds below.

There was still snow on the ground, and he could see a few snowball wars in full swing outside. Shikaan snowball fights were some of the most brutal he'd ever seen. After all, every student was trained to some degree in tactics and battle scenarios. They probably thought of this as training but were actually enjoying themselves, for once, since Welkins wasn't there breathing fire down their necks. He'd yet to take part in one himself, as most of the students weren't human and tended to throw their snowballs _really_ hard and hide rocks inside. He'd rather not lose an eye or get a concussion, thanks.

Taking in a slow breath, he let his eyes half-lid to block out some of the bright light reflecting off the snow below. He could smell the frost on the air from his window, could almost imagine the taste of it adding to the crisp sweetness of the apple he chewed. He breathed. Maybe if he stared out the window long enough the world would take a hike and leave him alone for a day.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he flinched away, dropping his half-eaten apple onto the ground and backing himself into the corner by the stove unit by accident. Green and red eyes met in a silent staring contest before Tara's face screwed up in determination.

"You've been doing that for a long time now. I didn't say anything because I was hoping you'd open up and share it yourself. Obviously you need a little prodding."

Cyrus went for his best 'I have no clue what you're talking about' look.

Tara's eyes narrowed. "You've been flinching ever since… that thing with Yankovich before the Akkad interrogation. What the hell happened?"

Cyrus glared. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She scowled. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. Stop hiding things! You suck at it!"

Wasn't that bloody ironic. "I'm not hiding anything!"

She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Yes you are! Do you have any idea the kind of consequences this kind of problem can lead to?! Shikaan students _will_ notice, and they _will_ take advantage of it! By flinching at touch you portray yourself as weak, and at this school you could get yourself killed! So tell me what the fuck is wrong so I can-"

"NOTHING'S WRONG!" he shouted, his magic exploding and shattering the window with the abrupt wave of pressure. Below, the snowball war stopped for a moment, but Cyrus wasn't paying attention to that. He had grabbed Tara's wrists and was trying to pull her off him. When the vampire didn't budge in the wake of the power and anger churning around him, he let out a frustrated yell. "GET OFF!!"

"Not until you tell me!" she yelled right back.

Already tired from the healing he'd done only an hour previous, it didn't take long for Cyrus's magic to sputter and die like a gas lantern low on fuel. As his magic weakened his body began to fail, and nausea curled up through Cyrus's stomach until he was emptying the contents of which onto the floor. Tara dodged in time to miss the vomit, and cleaned it up before Cyrus collapsed to the ground and landed in it. On his hands and knees, the human tried to regain some kind of equilibrium.

Gasping for air and head churning dizzily, he was unprepared for the hand that landed in his hair and started playing with the blond strands.

"I just want to help you, Cyrus," Tara said quietly. "Let me."

Cyrus snorted bitterly. "What's there to help? How do you _help_ with something like this, Tara?"

She was silent for a moment, probably trying to hold back a normal snarky comment. "First off, you can tell me what happened to you to make you like this."

Cyrus closed his eyes and breathed, as his stomach still wasn't sure what he felt about the hand in his hair. After a long pause, it finally decided to settle. "I don't… I don't want to talk about it."

"If you don't, it's not going to go away, Cyrus."

"And how's _talking_ going to make it better?"

"It's not an instant fix, Cyrus! But it's the beginning of you moving past… whatever this is."

The human took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm himself. He had to admit, the hand playing with his hair was starting to actually make him feel a little better. He knew Tara wouldn't hurt him, and she was… a girl. A lesbian, as she had pointed out many times before. His lips twitched. He could remember her saying she wouldn't have sex with him even if she were paid to do it. It made him feel a little better.

They stayed like that for a while, and eventually Tara complained about a crick in her neck and moved them through the shadows to the bed. She sat back against the headboard, put his head in her lap, and wouldn't let him move an inch. Finally, he just gave in to her stubbornness and let his hair be pet like a dog. It was humiliating, but there wasn't anyone else there to see it, and eventually he started feeling more comfortable with the warm skin under his cheek and the hand playing with his hair. It was… relaxing, now that the nausea had faded. Every time the tingling fingers threatened to run all over his skin, he reminded himself it was Tara, she was a girl, and she wasn't attracted to him. For some reason, it seemed to help.

After what felt like hours but was probably only half an hour, he opened his mouth. "Yankovich wanted… needed someone to help power a raising. Do you know anything about… that British Dark Lord going around killing people?"

"Hmmm… Yeah. I've read a few of those papers to keep updated," she said, just as quietly as he had spoken.

"Well, he kidnapped Yankovich's niece because the Necromancy Guild wouldn't work for him. Then he ordered Yankovich to raise for him a thousand inferi, or he'd kill her."

Tara snickered. "I bet Yankovich wasn't too happy about that."

Cyrus's lips twitched. "Yeah. He did something that made the inferi go out of control. Voldemort was in for quite the surprise. Anyway, Yankovich brought me with him to the drop off point in case Voldemort went back on his word. I… I went to save Marianna, but… Death Eaters, I killed a lot of them, but I missed a few, and… they threatened to kill her if I didn't back down. And then one of them… Macnair, he…"

Tara kept playing with his hair and waited patiently for him to get it out.

After a long struggle, Cyrus finally choked out, "He… he t-touched me…"

The hand in his hair stilled for a moment before continuing its lulling pattern. "How?" the vampire asked quietly, devoid of emotion.

"F-first it was… just my face, and then my ch-chest, and then he…" When he couldn't seem to spit it out, he got frustrated with himself. Macnair had been dead for nearly a month, and yet he was _still_ affecting Cyrus. "He touched… my… my…" He took a fortifying breath. "He touched my d-dick."

Tara kept petting his hair. "Did he die a painful, gruesome death?"

Cyrus blinked in surprise and tilted his head to look up at her. Her face was completely serious. "I killed him, yeah. I… sank a dagger into his heart."

Tara nodded. "It felt good, didn't it?"

Cyrus opened his mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. He broke eye contact and turned his head to look at the foot of the bed again. Killing Macnair had been the first time he'd _wanted_ to kill somebody so badly and actually done it. He'd wanted to kill Bellatrix that time in the Department of Ministries when she'd killed Sirius, but he hadn't actually succeeded. He'd killed werewolves in Remus's pack before his guardian had become the Alpha, and he hadn't felt guilt, but he hadn't felt such driving hatred and desire to kill then either.

Tara started playing with his hair again, and finally Cyrus could answer. "Yes," he whispered.

"And he can never hurt you again. Because he's dead, right?"

The human licked his lips. "Yes."

"So why are you still afraid of him to this day?"

He opened his mouth to answer and couldn't seem to come up with something to say.

"You flinch at touch, you're afraid of the idea of being intimate with someone… are you going to let him rule your life forever? Are you going to let him taint the idea of sex with someone else? He's dead. Gone. You watched him bleed out in front of your own eyes. So tell me, can he hurt you anymore?"

Cyrus bit his lip before finally saying, "No."

"That's right. And is touch a gross thing? You seem to like my hand in your hair."

Cyrus didn't say anything for a while, closing his eyes and focusing on that touch. No, it didn't feel wrong anymore. Didn't make him feel nauseous or want to puke. "No."

"'No' you don't like my hand in your hair or 'no' touch isn't a gross thing?" she asked, amusement coloring her voice.

Cyrus's lips twitched. "No, touch isn't… isn't a gross thing."

"Good. This is a good start. So from now on I'm going to keep touching you until you stop flinching, 'kay? And you should start letting Xanthir have some contact, too. Werewolves are a really touchy kind of species. He's been freakin' out for weeks now that the reason you keep flinchin' is because you don't like him or somethin' stupid."

Cyrus craned his head around to frown up at her. "What? Why would he think that?"

"Because to a werewolf, bein' able to touch someone is a sign of trust. So while intellectually he's realized there's somethin' wrong that he doesn't know about, as a werewolf he immediate thinks 'Cyrus doesn't trust me'."

Cyrus blinked. "Oh."

Tara grinned. "That's right, 'oh'. Now, as I recall you put off a 'non-date' with the one hit Ashy wonder. You gonna phone him or what?"

The human blinked again, lips forming into an 'o'. "Ah shit, I did forget about that." He shifted around and pulled his magi-com out of his pocket. Since it was still on silent, he hadn't noticed any calls while he was healing the werewolves in Xanthir's pack. He had a missed call – no message – and two texts.

He opened the texts.

_Hey Just wondering how U R. Is_

_everything OK?_

_Ashawyn_

_Its Sun morn, havent heard from U_

_In graveyard right now practicing._

_Mik is being normal grumpy self._

_Having trouble with what Im learning _

_now. Mik isnt very patient. Hope 2_

_hear from U soon._

_Ashawyn_

"Aaaw," Tara cooed over his shoulder, and he shot her an annoyed look and started slowly plunking away at the keyboard. Why couldn't they just put letters in alphabetical order?

_Hey. Back at Shikaan now. Everything_

_is okay. Not sure I have time for hike_

_this week. Havent started homework_

_yet for the weekend. Stressing me out._

_Runes is evil right now. Going to have_

_tutor soon hopefully._

_Cy_

When he finally finished, he pressed the little 'send' button and watched the mini video that came up of a letter flying through swirls of magic. He put the magi-com on vibrate and put it on his little table. He couldn't wait to get out of his basilisk armor and clean it properly. Even after that cleaning spell, he felt dirty.

"I'm going to take a shower," he told Tara, starting to take off his belts and pouches.

Tara nodded. "Alright. I'll come by after so we can go to a late lunch. That sound good?"

Cyrus nodded. "Yeah. I'm starving." He pulled off the skin-tight shirt and wasn't surprised to see that Tara had vanished during the small space of time he couldn't see. Quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes, he went into the bathroom with plans to waste a good half hour of hot water.

Forty-five minutes later Cyrus walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and another one on his head. Sticking his hand on the panel on his trunk, he waited for it to fly open before climbing down the ladder. Most of his clothes were down here, and he felt like wearing something clean and not battle-oriented for a day. Digging through the dresser, he dropped the towel and slipped into a pair of underwear. Rubbing his hair viciously to get rid of most of the water, he dropped it onto the ground too and started rifling through the unfolded clothes for something to wear. Eventually he settled on a pair of loose jeans and a T-shirt. Today was his comfort day, he decided.

A knock sounded at his door and he swore, grabbing a pair of boots that he'd bought on a shopping trip a while back and some socks. Climbing up the ladder, he tossed the boots and socks onto the floor and closed the trunk behind him. "Just a minute!" he called just before he nearly tripped over the pile of basilisk armor on the ground. "Ouch," he grumbled to himself, rubbing his foot against his leg as he answered the door.

Ashawyn stood on the other side, and Cyrus didn't really know why he was surprised. Ashawyn was the only one who knocked. "Hey," he said with a sheepish little wave. "Mind if I come in?"

Cyrus shook his head and held the door open, closing it behind the ice fae after he walked inside. Turning around, he saw the fae smiling.

"Wow, you really did just get back."

Cyrus nodded, ruffling a hand over his messy hair that was only half-dry. It was probably spiking and fluffing all over the place. "Yeah. Took a shower."

Ashawyn smiled. "So I smell."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "You can smell that stuff?"

The fae pointed to his nose. "Advanced senses. For fae it's more for our… hormone thing, as Tara might say. Our ears are a bit more sensitive than a human's but not by much, and our eyes are similar to yours but some of us can see the flows of magic to some extent."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Really? You can see magic? That's cool."

"Sometimes. Like any gift, there are disadvantages."

The human nodded. "Me and Tara are going to a late lunch in a bit. Want to come?"

Ashawyn nodded, smiling. "That'd be wonderful!"

Cyrus smiled and led the way.

_oOo_

Lunch and supper on Sunday were pretty awkward. Cyrus did his best to avoid Yalmireth for the most part, as he didn't really want to confront him about everything. He kept strong in his resolve that if Yalmireth wanted to be friends, he'd have to get over whatever was bothering him – whether it be jealousy or some other logic Cyrus didn't understand.

Monday passed smoothly enough except for Animagus class. Just like on Friday, he found he had made no progress. In fact, he was starting to think he was _regressing_. It was with this worry that he approached Instructor Catchpool, the twin sister of his Wandless Magic professor.

"What are you saying exactly?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Cyrus sighed and glanced around at the other students. With a thought, he put up a privacy spell. "I feel like… before I felt like I was at least looking for _something_ during all that meditation. Typical foggy bits, impressions, but nothing concrete like you say I should have found by now. I thought Friday might just be an off day, but now it's the same! I feel like there's nothing there to be found anymore." He let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. This class was an endless frustration for him. He'd been thinking of just dropping it entirely for months now, but the hope that he could transform into an animal had stayed his decision. But now he was beginning to doubt himself again.

Catchpool's frown deepened. "I checked you myself a month ago, Mr. Obsidian, the last time you came to me about dropping the class. You have an animal, you're just having trouble finding it."

Cyrus shook his head. "Can you just check again? Please?"

She let out an impatient huff, but put her fingers to his forehead. After a moment, she frowned. "This is odd. Do you have Occlumency shields up? Occasionally they keep things related to the mind hidden. It didn't hide it last time, but shields, like people, change and develop over time."

Cyrus closed his eyes and fell into his magic. Finding his mind, he brought it up into its rightful place and hit the clasp. He opened his eyes again. "Is it there now?"

Catchpool, eyes still closed, said nothing for a moment. Her frown deepened. "This is impossible," she muttered to herself, obviously getting frustrated. "I _know_ you have a form. I saw the potential for it. Where the hell is it?"

Cyrus's eyebrows rose in surprise at the cuss.

She finally opened her eyes, a stormy look on her face. "For some reason, it seems you're right. You have no animagus form anymore. Did something happen in the last couple months that could explain it?"

Where did he _start?_ "I… I don't know. There's… I mean, we don't even know if…" Cyrus sighed. He didn't really want to explain everything to her. "You know what, I think I'll just drop the class. There's no point in my being here if I don't have an animagus form anymore. Thanks for your help, Instructor."

Catchpool watched him with a pensive look on her face. "Very well, Mr. Obsidian. I'll pull you from the class."

He nodded and left, feeling empty inside. Ever since he'd found out about the marauders in third year, and how his dad had been a stag, he'd always found the idea of being able to turn into an animal fascinating. And now he couldn't do it anymore. It felt… he felt just a little empty at the thought.

_oOo_

Cyrus was bummed out all Monday night, even with Ashawyn and Tara trying to cheer him up during dinner. His mood got a little better, however, when Soterios finally got in contact with him. She ended up sending him a text telling him to meet her at the library at seven that night. She also mentioned some form of payment.

He just hoped it wouldn't be something that he couldn't give, or reeeally didn't want to give. Apparently among vampires it wasn't that odd to use sex as a form of payment. Cyrus himself found the whole system rather… unappealing.

"Obsidian, I take it?"

Cyrus, who had been standing near the desk in the main study area, turned his head slightly and caught sight of a tall woman with endlessly curly, dirty blond hair and intense blue eyes. Inhuman blue eyes. They reminded him of the way the ocean turned blue-green on the whitest of tropical beaches. Not that he'd ever gone to the beach, but the Dursleys had had postcards and pamphlets for their 'dream vacations' floating around.

"Yeah, that's me. Soterios?"

She nodded succinctly, expression business-like and uninterested as she motioned him to follow her. "Yes. Rivehn has informed me that you wish to have a tutor for Runes. Is there anything in particular you're having trouble with?"

Cyrus bit his lip. "Transfiguration, mostly. Everything else I've managed to figure out so far, but this is giving me a lot of trouble and now we're moving on to new things in class."

"I see. You are aware that the marks devoted to transfiguring runes on the final exam are minimal?"

He nodded. "Yes, but I'm not taking the course just to pass a final exam."

They finally came to a stop in a small nook in the library, and she sat down, placing her book bag on the table and starting to pull books out. "Why are you taking the course, then?" she asked as she started flipping through one of her books, not looking at him at all.

Cyrus sat down and thought about his answer. He couldn't exactly tell her he had rune sight, could he. "I'm thinking of going on and apprenticing in it. I haven't decided yet, but I really like the course and… well, normally I'm quite good at it."

Her lips twitched and she finally looked up. "Except when it comes to Transfiguration."

Cyrus grinned half-heartedly. "Yeah."

She pushed the book towards him and he glanced down at the page. "What do you see?" she asked, pointing to an array stretched across most of the page.

He frowned and chewed on his lip in thought. "Well, it's a transfiguration array?"

"Which kind?"

"Um, do you mean is it the result or the state?"

Soterios sighed. "We do have a long way to go. What do you know of Mardiv, Jeosi, and Balt?"

His mouth fell open a bit as he floundered for an answer. The names seemed familiar. "Umm… they were… Runes Masters?"

"Close. One of them is still alive, however. There are countless people throughout history that would like to think they created the art of Transfiguration, but no one actually knows who started it all. Those three people, however, were the ones that turned a haphazard technique that often didn't work or backfired into an art form. Mardiv was the first to research Transfiguration spells and figure out how they worked. Out of the spells he studied, he created a standard formula that has been used as the basis of most Transfiguration spells today. He is the one who created the state, execution, and result sequences of an array. The state describes the current object to be transfigured, the result is what you want it to become, and the execution is the sequence of runes that makes the actual transfiguration take place. You've covered this in class, yes?"

Cyrus nodded. "Yeah. For some reason it's just not clicking, though."

She blinked. "Click? Ah, you're not understanding. You seem to be the kind of person to figure out why everything works, yes? If you want to be able to master creating transfigurations, you need to understand each formula, how they work, and how you can change them depending on the result you want. Now, back to the Mardiv array. While he separated each section of the array, often the spell would still fail to work. Jeosi later discovered laws that rule the physical realm, as she was a Runes Master that also had a fascination with alchemy during the time when it was still considered an art. For the most part it has been abandoned due to its limitations. However, one of the concepts she pulled from this art was 'equivalent exchange'. That is, what you put into something is what you get out of it. Thus, she tried to break those rules through magic, and she succeeded. Her sequences are used for spells in which you would, for example, change a rock into a large mound of dirt, or a butterfly into a horse. A butterfly into a horse is a bit more complicated, but I'll get into that at another time.

"Lastly there is Balt, a master of Runes and Transfiguration. He is still alive. He has been expanding the capabilities of Transfiguration for the past hundred years or so, creating dozens of books of spells that are taught in classes today. He probably has the broadest understanding of Transfiguration out of anyone alive, and he continues to break the rules that many have accepted as fact long ago.

"Now, if you want anything beyond a basic understanding of Mardiv's formulas, you need to buy this book and start studying from it. Balt himself wrote it in the beginning of his career. It teaches Mardiv concepts, Jeosi concepts, as well as some Balt concepts. He also includes changes to the past scholars' works, along with his reasoning."

Cyrus pulled out a piece of paper and closed the book in order to see the title. He wrote down the title and author, as well as the publisher in case he needed to go hunt it down. He had a feeling this was going to be tedious, difficult work. Hopefully it would pay off.

"I'm not charging you anything for this first session, but it will be a galleon an hour from now on. I guarantee you will have questions on this material. It's hard to understand even with the way Balt breaks it down and explains each concept. If you wish to contact me for a lesson, here is my magi-com number." She slipped him a scrap of paper with her number written on it. "I have some work to do, so I have to leave now."

Cyrus nodded and stood up as she did. "Thanks."

She inclined her head and put her book bag back on her shoulder, leaving the library by walking into the shadow of a bookshelf. Huh. Apparently she was a vampire.

He wondered what clan. Maybe Tara knew her?

Shrugging away his thoughts, he put the number in his magi-com. If he had to go shopping, he might as well get some other things he'd been thinking about buying for a while now. Like that Linmeyelle Mikhail had used to store his death magic. Not that he knew where to get it.

Maybe Ashawyn could help with that. He sent off a quick text asking Ashawyn to meet him at his room if he was free and then disapparated from the library with a nearly silent _pop_.

Cyrus spent the next few minutes in his room, getting dressed for a trip to Gemini Square. He was just pulling on his basilisk-skin shirt when a knock sounded at the door. Swearing under his breath – it almost seemed as if the shirt was getting tighter with each day – he yelled for them to come in.

As he expected, it was Ashawyn, and he tried not to blush as the ice fae stared at his some-what defined chest as he tried to pull the shirt on. "What?" he asked defensively, finally realizing he was well and truly stuck. So far the skin had been stretching with him, so he didn't understand how his muscle mass could have grown so much in the past three weeks that it wouldn't fit anymore.

Ashawyn smiled abashedly. "Sorry, it's just… you look so cute all ruffled like that." At the annoyed look on Cyrus's face, he cleared his throat. "Ah, I mean, it looks like your armor's getting too small for you. Why don't you buy a new outfit?"

Cyrus let out a disgusted noise and tried to pull the shirt back off. In the end, Ashawyn had to help him. After they'd finally got it off, the ice fae stopped for a moment and just looked over Cyrus's chest. The human found himself blushing, but not nearly as uncomfortable as he would have been a few weeks ago.

"It does seem that you're gaining more muscle than before. Did your teacher increase the regimen?"

Cyrus let out a frustrated breath. "No! And that's exactly why this is so frustrating. Why is my body all of a sudden doing all these weird things?"

Ashawyn's lips twitched. "Late puberty?" At the scathing look Cyrus sent him, he laughed. "But seriously, you could be having a growth spurt. It's not that unusual."

Cyrus looked up at Ashawyn. "I'm not getting any taller."

The fae shrugged. "There are other kinds of growth besides how tall you get. You're sixteen, right? There's plenty of time for you to fill out."

Cyrus sighed. Ashawyn did have a point. Maybe he _was_ just finally growing a bit. "Damnit. Now I need to buy new armor. And this book I need for Runes, and- Hey Ashawyn, do you know what a Linmeyelle is?"

The apprentice blinked. "Yes. Mikhail uses them to store his death magic. He always has a few on him, some charged and some not, just in case he needs them."

"Right. Well, he said they're really expensive or rare or something. Is that true?"

"Well… It depends on what kind of deal you have set up with the person crafting them. Mikhail supplies the crafter with the materials, so the crafter only charges him for labor. He still pays around 50 galleons per stone, though."

Cyrus hummed thoughtfully. Last he knew he had a lot of money in his trust account. It would be useful to get one, even if it was expensive. If he needed more he could always come to some sort of deal with the crafter like Mikhail had. "Where do I buy one?"

Ashawyn's eyebrows rose. "You have 100 gallons for a Linmeyelle?"

Cyrus nodded. "I think it would be useful to have one."

"Why? Why would you need one?"

"I have horrible control, as you probably already know. Mikhail suggested draining some of my death magic to make it easier to control."

Ashawyn frowned. "That's only a temporary solution. Have you been practicing control exercises? Like raising animals?"

It was Cyrus's turn to frown. "You know, that's what Yankovich told me to do. Mikhail said it was… well, he doesn't seem to like Yankovich."

Ashawyn snorted. "No. Mikhail is very good at what he does, and as a result, he's very arrogant. Yankovich and he have been in a rivalry for ages. Thing is, Yankovich doesn't care what anyone thinks of him, and he studies and practices to better himself, not to get better than other people. Mikhail on the other hand… he wants to be the best in the Guild. It… makes things awkward sometimes. Don't disregard what Yankovich says just because Mikhail doesn't like him. I have to be objective too, even though I'm his student. Personally, I think Yankovich is a better teacher."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "What? Really?"

Ashawyn grinned. "Well, he _did_ get a job at Shikaan. And your school doesn't hire just anyone. There's a reason it's so expensive, cut throat, and damn hard to survive."

Cyrus frowned. "Expensive? How much does it cost?"

"Well, I think the first year is the cheapest. One, there are always more first years than any other year. Two, it's sort of the 'testing' year to see if you even like the school. Just as many people drop out of first year as those that die. Three, they increase the price as you go up in years and the education gets more specialized. Those are some of the reasons I decided not to come here in the end."

"How much is tuition?"

Ashawyn stared off in thought. "Let's see… it was about the same as my school for first year, so… 600 galleons."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. That was 6000 pounds. As far as he knew he hadn't paid anything. Had Severus or Remus covered the cost? Neither of them could get into his accounts, after all. He'd have to remember to ask them about it when he visited next.

"So, if you're going to go shopping for a Linmeyelle… you'll probably need me to show you where to go for the best deal. Mind if I come with you?"

Cyrus blinked and then frowned in thought. "I guess… You don't mind tagging along for the book and armor?"

Ashawyn smiled. "I'd be happy to help you look for a good set of armor."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed slightly. "You just want to see me in tight-fitting clothes."

The fae shrugged. "Guilty."

The human rolled his eyes and shook his head, but the thought still didn't bother him as much as it might have a few weeks ago. During the time he'd hung out with Ashawyn, he hadn't been able to deny that he _was_ attractive. And now that the fae wasn't getting in his face all the time about… well, everything, he was finally starting to warm up to the guy a bit beyond… 'friend'. But he still wasn't comfortable with the idea of… well, the touching part of… sex.

Ah shit, now he was starting to get a hard on. Sometimes being a guy just _sucked_. "Before we go, I just have to use the bathroom. Do you need to pick up anything from your rooms?" he asked, already walking towards the bathroom. Basilisk pants didn't hide lumps very well, after all.

Ashawyn shook his head, but there was an amused curve to his lips. "No, I have everything."

After Cyrus had taken care of his little 'problem', they went to Gemini Square first. Cyrus had a bitch of a time trying to find the book – it had been published around eighty years ago, after all – but he did finally locate it in a quaint little bookshop pointed out by Ashawyn. Apparently he knew the little old lady who owned it, and Cyrus ended up wandering around and finding a bunch of other books to buy while the two caught up. He didn't mind, really. Not after he found a really obscure book written by _Rivehn_ over two hundred years ago about the correlations of Runes and wild magic.

Next they went to a seamstress that specialized in battle robes, armor, dresses, muggle street clothes – you name it she could make it.

One problem. She didn't speak a word of English.

"Um, I think she's trying to ask whether or not you want… _uija mollatrei?_ I have no idea what that word means," Ashawyn said helplessly, looking between the two of them with a totally confused expression on his face.

Cyrus sighed. "Can you ask her if she has a catalogue? Something we can point out and say yes or no?"

Ashawyn stumbled through something that sounded far less elegant coming out of his mouth than the lady's. Eventually, her eyes lit up in recognition, and she motioned them to follow her into the back of her shop, barking something at the boy behind the counter before she did.

She dropped a huge book onto the workroom table and flipped open the cover as if it were as light as paper. The book was _huge_. She pointed to the first page, which had an array of pictures and chunks of fabric beneath them. Cyrus whistled at the number of options he apparently had open to him. Problem was, he didn't know what was good.

"Can you ask her what's durable and will stretch as I grow? I don't want to buy a new outfit only for it to not fit in two months."

As Ashawyn tripped over his own words trying to explain to her what Cyrus wanted, the human started looking over the different fabrics and skins. They were fascinating, really. So many options available. And some of them looked so delicate, but the only way they could be in this book was if they could be made into battle armor.

"She said there are a handful of options that fit what you want. Some more expensive than others."

Cyrus turned his attention back to the lady. "Which ones?"

Ashawyn translated and the lady started pointing and giving short explanations. The ice fae continued translating. "She says fabrics don't stretch and you'll have to go with a skin. _Farweren_ skin – and no I don't know what that is – is spell-resistant but weak to physical attacks. And… basilisk skin is good for resisting magic, but isn't very flexible. It will stretch to a certain point, and then it stops. Dragon skin is resistant to everything, but again, it has a little stretch but not much. _Yelarian_ skin stretches and… whoa, weird. Apparently it's crap at resisting magic, but it's nearly impenetrable, heals itself, and grows with the wearer."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Seriously? What, is it alive?"

Ashawyn asked the lady. She shook her head and said one word. Ashawyn smiled. "Complicated."

Cyrus nodded. So the question was, did he want something that could resist magic fired at him or that couldn't be cut? It didn't seem like it was worth it. If he got tossed around, he's still break a limb. Or if he got 'stabbed' with a sword, he'd still get a bruise. It probably depended on how thick the skin was. Which brought him full circle. Buy something he might grow out of in a month or something that would last?

Well, it wasn't like he couldn't cast a full body shield charm. Magic wasn't his weakness. "Ask her how much it would cost to get an outfit made out of _Yelarian_ skin."

Ashawyn's eyebrows rose when he relayed the question. "Whoa. Two hundred galleons. And she wants a hundred up front."

Cyrus nodded, and Ashawyn's eyebrows rose even higher. Thankfully, he didn't say anything about Cyrus obviously being loaded. "Where are the designs?"

Ashawyn translated again. "She says you don't pick the design, she does. You tell her what you want, she takes your measurements, and she makes it."

Cyrus shrugged. "Alright. Not like I have any sense of design anyway. I want full range of movement. I want boots, gloves, and I want it to protect my neck. What else…" He looked down at the basilisk pants he was still wearing. It looked weird with a T-shirt on top, but he didn't really care. "I have two wands. I want a thigh holster for one and an arm holster for the other." To show her exactly the problem with his death stick, he pulled it out of its holster and watched her eyebrows rise at the length. She made a note on her pad of paper as Ashawyn continued to translate, using gestures to help express his meaning. "And…" What he really wanted to say just then was 'I don't want anyone to be able to put their hands down my pants', but he wasn't sure he'd be able to get it out without having passing out from mortification. "Can she make it one piece instead of two? Without making it look… stupid?"

Ashawyn gave him a weird look, but conveyed the question nonetheless. The lady immediately nodded and made a motion of 'zipping' herself up in the back.

Cyrus nodded. "Yeah, that's fine."

She nodded and made a few last notes on her pad of paper before pushing him out of the room and back into the main area. With a wave of her hand, she set up a circle of curtains and pushed him inside. She waved a hand at Ashawyn when he tried to come in as well, barking something in that weird language. Ashawyn murmured something and stayed on the other side of the thick fabric.

"She wants you naked."

Cyrus choked. "Excuse me?!"

"Apparently she's a… perfectionist. Um… underwear too, she said."

Cyrus stared at her in shock for a few moments, but she looked decidedly unimpressed and raised a 'what are you waiting for?' eyebrow. Finally, he swallowed nervously and started pulling off his shirt. The pants were a bit harder to get off as they were so tight, but he finally managed. She pulled out a tape measure and started making weird notes in a language he'd never seen before.

He started going over a mental catalogue of all the Dark Arts spells he knew when she started touching him occasionally. At one point she grabbed one of his legs and started bending it, nearly making him fall over. Once he got the drift of what she wanted, though, he bent his knee himself and watched as she made more weird designs on her paper. And just when he thought she was finally done, she called something out to Ashawyn that resulted in silence for a full ten seconds.

"S-she… she needs to measure your… when you're erect."

Cyrus blinked, uncomprehending. "What? She needs to measure what?"

"Your… your hard-on!"

Cyrus's jaw fell open. "What the fuck would she want to measure that for?!"

The lady, apparently getting the gist of his anger, barked something at Ashawyn again.

"She says that she does… a full job? A complete job? Apparently you're going to be protected from enemies trying to kick you in the jewels," the ice fae joked half-heartedly.

Cyrus closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This… was _the_ most awkward thing he'd ever done. "Can't she just do an approximation?"

Ashawyn translated, and the lady started to get annoyed. "No. She said that every man is different, and she doesn't want… I _think_ she said she doesn't want your dick being suffocated? Doesn't translate very well."

Cyrus took in another fortifying breath. "How am I…" His hands shaking at his sides. This was such a violation of privacy he didn't have words to articulate himself. "How am I supposed to get a hard on like this?!" he finally bit out, embarrassed beyond belief.

Ashawyn chuckled nervously. "Want some help?"

Cyrus's eyes widened. "What kind of help are we talking about here?" He did _not_ squeak.

Ashawyn laughed. "Well, how about first you think about someone you think is hot? Then you imagine… them… you know, doing things. To you. Or you doing things to them. Whatever… turns you on."

Cyrus furiously rubbed at his face. Think of someone hot? Well… there was Rivehn. But he didn't think he wanted to consciously think about an age-old vampire at this moment in time. He was what, sixteen? That had to be the epitome of cradle robbing. No matter how hot the man was. Who else turned him on?

He bit his lip. Ashawyn had. Right before they came here. If he'd known he'd need an erection to get _fitted_ he wouldn't have jacked off in the bathroom. Fuck. Think of sex, think of sex… he was a teenager, how come the moment he _needed_ an erection he couldn't make it happen? Damnit! "I… I can't do it," he finally cracked out.

Ashawyn walked in at that moment, looking serious. Cyrus tried to cover himself with his hands, but it wasn't working too well. He was so flummoxed and flustered he didn't even think of conjuring something to hide himself. "W-what the hell! Don't come in here!"

Ashawyn walked right up to him, but his eyes remained connected to Cyrus's own, not taking advantage of their current situation to look him over. "Look. She's getting impatient. She just about bit my head off with the last comment. Most of her customers aren't human, and have no trouble getting an erection so she can measure it. If you keep standing around, she might decide you're not worth it, charge you for a waste of time, and toss you out the door. Okay? Just… just let me help."

Cyrus stared into those pale blue eyes for a moment before swallowing nervously. "I... I-I have a p-problem with… with touch."

Ashawyn gently placed a cool hand on Cyrus's shoulder. "This bothers you?"

Cyrus breathed in slowly, closing his eyes, but it made it worse when he couldn't see that it wasn't Macnair. 'That fucker's dead,' he reminded himself, chewing away at his lip. "It's uncomfortable."

Ashawyn made a thoughtful noise. He leaned in really close, and Cyrus found himself turning red. He couldn't deny that Ashawyn was one _hot_ fae. And having him so close… and leaning closer.

"Would you mind if I kissed you?" Ashawyn whispered against his lips, and Cyrus could taste a burst of frost. "Or would that make you… uncomfortable?"

Cyrus's eyes half-lidded, and just the memory of those lips against his made his skin tingle. "I don't know… let's see," he found himself murmur back as blood started rushing away from his head. When Ashawyn finally closed the distance, he let out a small sigh. The fae certainly knew what he was doing, as he massaged Cyrus's mouth with his own. Eventually a little bit of teasing tongue was added to the mix, and Cyrus found himself completely aroused.

And then the lady cleared her throat.

Ashawyn broke away with a pleased grin, while Cyrus blushed and looked away in embarrassment. Swallowing nervously, he tried to ignore the fact that the lady's tape measure was measuring his… dick. He flushed even more as he felt Ashawyn finally look him over.

"You know…" the fae began with a teasing grin. "I'm going to enjoy seeing you in this armor. You are _definitely_ more muscular than the last time I saw you in tight-fitting clothes."

Cyrus flushed even more. "Do you have to keep staring?" he asked, his erection waning as his discomfort won out. Hopefully the crazy lady had all the measurements she needed.

Ashawyn grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. You're just so cute when you blush like that," he said, voice lowered seductively.

Cyrus covered his face with a hand. "Can you turn around, please?"

Ashawyn winked, but left the curtained off area.

Cyrus let out a relieved breath and looked at the lady who was watching him with a glint in her eye. "Are we done yet?" he asked, cheeks still flushed from both the kiss and his embarrassment.

She smiled and left the curtains, barking something at Ashawyn.

"She says you can get dressed now, leave a hundred galleons with the boy at the counter, and to come back in two weeks."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Two weeks?!"

The ice fae shrugged. "She's a very good seamstress. I'm not surprised she's busy with other orders. Be glad it wasn't a month."

Cyrus, who was almost finished pulling on his pants, scowled. "Yeah, I guess. But still. I don't have proper armor to wear for two weeks now!"

The fae shrugged. "That's life. You'll just have to be careful, or prepare earlier next time."

Cyrus sighed. Ashawyn had a point. Even if Cyrus wasn't happy about it. "Yeah, I guess."

"Do you want to go get that Linmeyelle in the meantime?"

"Ah, yeah. I'm not sure if I'm going to have enough money, though." From his calculations, the down payment for this armor would use up the majority of the money he had left over. "I'm going to have to visit the bank."

He grimaced as he pulled on his shirt and left the curtains to see Ashawyn waiting for him. Great.

He had to visit Diagon Alley.

_-Toki Mirage-_

So, who was surprised to see this out so early? I gotta tell you, I was. Of course, I wasted my entire weekend away with movies, fanfiction, and writing, so why am I surprised? (shakes her head at herself) I'm such a bad girl. Mweheheh.

So, to the person who asked for 'fluff', and a break from the shit hitting the fan: I dare say I do not write _fluff_, but this is as close as I'll ever get. I hope it tickled your fluff bone. :)

Please send some thanks in Marmee Noir's direction, official Muse-in-Training. She appreciates your love.

Thanks for reading, and to those that review, for reviewing!


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo: Pigs Can Fly

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

**WARNING: **This chapter contains material that goes beyond M rating. To see the unedited version, please follow this link or visit my profile:

http : // hp. adultfanfiction. net / ? no=600022885&chapter=22

http: // toki-mirage. livejournal. com / 11896. html

LJ formatting is being a cocksucker right now, so I suggest you go AFF.

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty-Two:

_oOo_

"What? What do you mean I can't come with you?"

Cyrus let out a breath, trying to quell his nerves. It wasn't exactly like he was excited to venture so close to discovery. Not that Ashawyn knew anything about his situation… and he'd rather keep it that way. "It's nothing personal. I'd just rather meet you back here once I'm done. You have my number, so it won't be very hard to contact me if we can't find one another in the market."

Ashawyn didn't look happy, but eventually he nodded. "Fine. I don't see what the big deal is, but I'll stay here. Maybe buy some…" He paused, a small smirk quirking his lips. "Yes, I am rather low on those."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow but said nothing, not wanting to jinx it. "Alright. See you in around half an hour, then. I can't see it taking much longer than that unless there's a line."

The fae nodded, so Cyrus disapparated to his rooms at Shikaan. After taking a quick look around to make sure none of his friends were 'visiting' again, he started casting spells to change his appearance. His skin turned pale white from the tanned shade, and his dirty blond hair darkened to a light brown. Lastly, he changed his eyes to gray blue. Once he'd found his key, safely stored inside his trunk, he disapparated to Diagon Alley.

It was… quiet when he popped in. And four in the afternoon. He was lucky there was such a time difference between Britain and Shikaan, otherwise he would never have been able to get into the bank today. Glancing around himself for potential danger, the hairs on the back of his neck rising from the lack of joy and noise he was familiar with, he made his way through the nearly empty streets. A few groups of people moved quickly from store to store, staying together and casting uneasy looks around themselves. After deeming them nonthreatening, Cyrus ignored them and made his way to Gringotts.

The bank was just as dead inside as outside. At least there were no lines. It made him wonder what had killed business so thoroughly. Was the fear of Voldemort really so strong that they wouldn't even venture outdoors for fear of Death Eater attacks? He'd read a couple papers, especially after the attack on the Ministry, but it was one thing knowing about the state of affairs and another thing entirely witnessing it himself. Apparently there had been a few raids on public locations, but nothing compared to the attack on the Ministry.

Letting out a breath, he walked up to the closest goblin and slid his key across the counter. The goblin examined it, its eyebrows furrowing after a moment in a scowl before it looked up sharply and narrowed its eyes at him. "Any other proof of identification?" it drawled, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "What kind of proof are we talking about?"

"Legal documents… identifying features…"

Letting out a sigh, Cyrus closed his eyes and changed his eyes back to their original killing curse green. He opened them for one second before closing them again and changing them back to blue. "Is that sufficient?"

The goblin sneered. "That will be enough… sir. Barshank will take you to your vault." His key was handed to the new goblin, and Cyrus moved quickly to keep up with the short but fast legs.

The trip to his trust vault was uneventful. As he had no reason to go to his family vaults, the trip was much shorter than last time. With a five minute rail cart ride later, in both directions, he was in and out of the bank in less than twenty minutes with an endless pouch filled with a larger amount of gold than Arthur Weasley had probably made in the past twenty years. It still felt weird to actually _have_ money, and even though he was filthy rich, he never spent it on anything unless he really needed it. He was even reluctant to spend it on clothes. After all, what was wrong with some cheap T-shirts? Shikaan wasn't exactly clothing-friendly.

"Good evening, sir!" a familiar voice called out. Cyrus blinked in alarm and turned to his left. He'd been lost in his thoughts and hadn't just disapparated straight away like he'd originally planned.

The blood drained from his face at the sight of Fred (or was it George?) Weasley.

"It's surprising to see a Hogwarts student out on the streets of Diagon Alley. You not worried about the Death Eater attacks?"

Cyrus blinked. "I'm not from Hogwarts."

The redhead's eyebrows rose. "Oh, really? Of course you're not." He winked. "Don't worry mate, I'll not tell anyone I saw you, but only if you come take a look at our selection of prank and protection items."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Protection items?"

Fred wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Why yes, my good sir. Care to take a browse?"

Cyrus glanced around the dead alley. "I guess it wouldn't hurt." He still had around ten minutes before Ashawyn started wondering where he was, after all. And maybe he could find out a bit of current events from someone living it instead of the horrible Daily Prophet.

"Wonderful!" Fred exclaimed, motioning him to follow. After a few moments, Cyrus was walking into the most garishly painted shop he'd ever laid eyes on. "Welcome to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the best joke shop in Diagon! The good-looking chap behind the counter is Forge, and I'm Gred Weasley. Would you like a tour?"

Cyrus shrugged. Why not? "Thanks, but just a quick look. I have to meet someone pretty soon."

Gred nodded with a grin and started bustling around the shop, pointing at different items and explaining what each did. Forge at the counter often cut in, and as if Cyrus had never left, he was watching the ping-pong of conversation pass back and forth at light speed. He had to stay on his toes to keep up.

Cyrus had to admit he was impressed with their selection. They'd definitely expanded their… 'candy' section. As they went through the stock, he picked up a couple boxes of chocolates. After all, with the amount of people constantly letting themselves into his rooms, it wouldn't hurt to have a few innocent traps laying in wait. "Do any of these treats have bad effects on vampires or werewolves?" he asked in a moment of silence between the twins, forgetting for a moment where exactly he was. It wasn't until he got a few moments of silence that he looked up and realized his stupidity. Most magic-folk in Britain had no idea that Other Realm even existed, and most were afraid of werewolves and vampires. Well, he knew that the twins wouldn't exactly be afraid of werewolves – they knew Remus after all – but he wasn't so sure what they'd think about vampires.

"To be honest, mate-"

"-we've never tried," they finally answered, trading looks with one another.

Cyrus nodded and picked up a fake wand. With a small, amused smile, he waved it and watched as it turned into a flopping rubber chicken. Twisting its left foot, he watched it turn back into a wand and grabbed a handful of them. He looked back and forth between the boxes of chocolates in his arms and the wands in his hand and was surprised when a basket appeared in front of him, held by one of the twins. He nodded his thanks, put his choices inside, and continued browsing.

Getting pulled into the familiarity of pranks, he went searching for the fireworks and portable swamp he remembered from sixth year when they were trying to get rid of Umbridge. When he found the swamp, he was surprised to see a handful of other environmental pranks: portable lake, portable mist, portable smoke, portable forest, portable mud… they even had a portable graveyard. Raising an eyebrow, he grabbed a handful of each – you never know when it might be useful – and put them in his basket. Casting a quick tempus, he winced and cast a forlorn look at the other pranks. Well, what would it hurt? He stuffed some more items at random before making his way to the counter. Just as he was taking out his bottomless pouch of coins – he'd already filled a separate bag with the hundred galleons for the seamstress, so he didn't have to worry about overspending and having to go back to the bank – he froze at the sight of a poster behind the till.

**U-No-Poo**

_Why are you worrying about __**You-Know-Who**__?_

_You should be worrying about __**U-No-Poo**__ - the Constipation Sensation that's gripping the nation!_

"What is that?" he asked before he realized his mouth was even moving.

The twins turned their heads to see what he was staring at before they grinned. "That? That my friend-"

"-is our version of a poster-"

"-that the Ministry put out."

Cyrus's lips stretched into a grin. Oh right. He remembered it now, from last year. "I'd like to see the original poster. Must have been terrible."

The twins nodded sagely. Well, as sagely as they could with such wide grins splitting their faces. "Is that everything-"

"-good sir?"

Cyrus nodded and watched as the twins pulled all the items out of the basket and started ringing them in. The twin not at the till was bagging his items. He'd ended up getting quite a bit more than he'd planned. Maybe now would be a good opportunity to fish for some information? "So, why's it so dead in the alley."

The twins looked at him funny. "What? How can you _not_ know?" the one bagging his items asked, jerking this thumb back at the poster they'd just been laughing over.

Cyrus laughed and rubbed the nape of his neck. "Well, I mean, I know about You-Know-Who being about and everything. I'm not really from around here, you see. I don't know much about what's going on in Britain. I only occasionally read that paper of yours, what is it called… the Daily something-rather?"

"Daily Prophet."

"Ah yes, that one."

The twins shared looks. "Well, what do you want to know?"

Cyrus smiled weakly. "Well… I heard that You-Know-Who is about again. And that he attacked the Ministry. How bad is it, really?"

"Well… people are disappearing. There are raids nearly every week, usually on muggleborn families. Sometimes important people at the Ministry are… targeted. And there have been around five attempts on Minister Scrimgeour's life so far. He only just barely survived the last one."

Cyrus widened his eyes. "Really? Wow. What's the government doing to stop him?"

The twins scowled. "Not much. People are still getting killed. As it is, most people are afraid to even leave their houses. Not that that will protect them."

Cyrus put a sympathetic frown on his face. "How are you two getting through this? You're rather young. Recently graduated?"

They grinned. "Dropped out."

Cyrus raised his eyebrows. "Really? Wow. You're doing pretty well here on your own, though. How'd you get this amazing joke shop started?"

He kept the amused smile off his face at the sight of them puffing their chests at the compliment. Well, they puffed for a little while, before they thought of the question in more detail and a dark look crossed their faces. "A… someone who _used_ to be a friend helped. Financially."

Cyrus frowned. "Used to be?"

"That'll be thirty-three galleons-

"-and twelve sickles, please."

Cyrus blinked. Oh right, this wasn't exactly a topic that they would want to talk about with a 'stranger', was it? Saying nothing, he counted out thirty-five galleons and put them on the counter. Taking the bags containing his purchases, he shrank them before slipping them into his bottomless bag. "Thanks. Keep the change. It was nice talking to you." He walked towards the door.

"Have a good day, sir!"

"And watch out for those Death Eaters-"

"-and U-No-Poo!"

Cyrus smiled half-heartedly and waved as he went through the door. "Will do." As soon as he was out, he slipped into a nearby alley and disapparated with a quiet pop. After dropping off his purchases in his rooms and changing his appearance back to that of Cyrus Obsidian, he went back to Gemini Square.

Ashawyn was waiting for him at the shop, magi-com in hand and typing something into it. Cyrus waved his hand in front of the fae's eyes, snapping him out of his intense texting. The ice fae blinked. "Oh. You're back."

The human raised an amused eyebrow. "Yes. I'm back. How about I leave you to your texting and I go pay for this armor of mine?"

"That's not necessary. I will come with you," Ashawyn said, closing the device and slipping it into his pocket.

Cyrus shrugged and walked into the store. Catching sight of the little old lady, he waved to try to get her attention. After a moment, she caught sight of him and said something in that foreign language again. Ashawyn behind him snorted. Cyrus frowned. "What. What'd she say?"

The apprentice grinned. "Well, the direct translation doesn't exactly make sense. Basically, she's surprised you came back."

Eyeing the innocent expression for a moment, Cyrus snorted. "Yeah. Right." He reached into his bottomless bag and pulled out the large bag of coins. It was rather heavy, so he dropped it onto the counter with a loud thump.

The old lady muttered a spell and tapped the bag with her wand. The appropriate sum appeared in golden letters, floating above. She eyed him for a moment, her expression inscrutable, but eventually nodded her head in what was, for her, probably a sign of respect. She barked something at Ashawyn and the fae took him by the arm.

"She said she'll have it done in two weeks and to stop- well, to leave her shop."

Cyrus grunted noncommittally and let himself be gently led through the crowd. Since it was around nine or ten at night in Gemini Square, which was on a different time than Shikaan, the streets were lit with colorful lights and lanterns. He found it interesting how Other Realm stores catered to both day and nighttime dwellers.

"You hungry? I know we already ate dinner at Shikaan, but I happen to know a good place not too far from here. They serve really good _Sylkich _food. Basically, demon food that's really spicy."

Cyrus frowned. "How spicy are we talking? Because I don't want my tongue burned off, thanks. I prefer mild."

Ashawyn smiled. "You can ask for different levels of spice. They have a lot of different species to cater to, after all. Fae taste buds are fairly sensitive, you see, so I would have to ask for a mild dish as well."

"Well… alright." The human shrugged. Why not? It sounded interesting.

When they were waiting for their food to arrive, Ashawyn started… _shifting_. Nervously. Cyrus, who had never seen him act similar to this before, got sick of it after five minutes of awkward silence. "Alright! What is it? You've been twitching ever since he walked away with our orders."

Ashawyn's cheeks turned slightly pink, and he grinned. "I'm that obvious am I?"

Cyrus gave him a 'well, _duh_' expression.

"Alright, well… you see, I've wanted to ask you this for a while, but I wasn't sure if you…" The fae trailed off and watched Cyrus's face carefully. "Will you spend the weekend of Valentines day with me? I was thinking we could go for a hike up to this really nice hot spring and just relax. You've been looking rather… worn, lately." At Cyrus's raised eyebrow, he blathered on, "That is, not to say that you're not as attractive as you've always been, I just meant… that…" he trailed off when he Cyrus shaking with laughter.

The human shook his head and smiled, amused. "I'm not a girl, Ashawyn. You can say I look like shit and it won't hurt my feelings." Seeing that the fae was about to interrupt, he plowed on, "I would love to spend a relaxing weekend with you. Things have been rather… crazy this past month. I think January was the worst month of my life."

As Cyrus laughed, Ashawyn asked, "Was it really that bad?"

The human snorted. "You don't even know the half of it."

Blue eyes watched him curiously. "Really?"

Cyrus nodded and sipped from his fruit drink, staring into space. Yankovich just popping into his room out of nowhere, asking about Voldemort. The incident with Dumbledore. Saving Marianna while avoiding a zombie army. Though, watching Voldemort flip out like that was amusing as hell. Those Akkad investigators attacking him. Tara's Trial. Remus getting poisoned. Saving Severus. Getting bitten by a vampire and almost dying. Discovering that, apparently, he was ill; though no one knew what the hell was wrong with him. Saving Xanthir from his crazy family. Healing a bunch of sick kids. He rubbed a hand over his face. Yeah, he could definitely use a vacation. Just thinking about it all was making him stressed.

But wait. "Valentines weekend… that's not this weekend, right? Because I have survival training this whole weekend. It's part of my Weapons and Battle class."

Ashawyn shook his head. "No, it's next weekend. Make sure to get as much of your homework done as you can so you can actually _relax_, too." He smiled.

Cyrus snorted. Right. Like _that_ was going to happen. "With survival training this weekend and taking the weekend off the next… well, let's just say I might not manage to get everything done. Would you mind if I brought some of it with me?"

Ashawyn sighed. "It sort of defeats the purpose of a relaxing weekend when you have to do work."

Cyrus sighed and stirred the ice chips in his fruit juice with the straw. Well, what else could he do this weekend that he'd been wanting to do for a while? His eyelids drooped in thought. Well, he'd been wanting to experiment with his magic sensitivity and necromancy for a while now and just hadn't had the time. He needed more control with both of them, and Ashawyn was a necromancer's apprentice, so… "Do you think you could help me a bit with my death magic instead then?"

Ashawyn frowned. "Instead of the weekend at the hot spring?"

"No, I mean, instead of the homework."

The fae hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I could. But we're not spending all day doing that," he warned.

Cyrus smiled. "No, that's fine. Thanks."

"No problem."

Their food came at that point, so further conversation was cut short by the absolutely delicious food teasing their noses. They dug in, trading tidbits about their lives. Ashawyn, who had never been to Shikaan, was at times fascinated or shocked by the curriculum and the teacher's methods of instruction. Cyrus, interested in fae culture, had asked about the easiest way to learn some of the more often used languages in Other Realm. Apparently there were some summer programs you could do that helped integrate outsiders into the culture of Other Realm. Mostly it was for students and spouses from Human Realm, or for those whose parents didn't know enough to teach them. Cyrus was contemplating doing one of the programs this summer, even though he had yet to decide if he was going to live in Other Realm or Human Realm. Unfortunately, even if he wanted to live in Other Realm, apparently there weren't many colonies of humans that were self-sufficient, and they didn't exactly welcome outsiders with open arms. Which meant it was more than likely he was never going to be able to cut all his ties with Human Realm.

After they finished eating, Ashawyn took him to the place that was most likely to have a Linmeyelle. At first the man was adamant that he didn't sell any, but once the ice fae dropped Mikhail's name he became far more agreeable. Cyrus watched for twenty minutes as the two bartered down the price of the innocent-looking rock down to a hundred galleons. He tried to ignore the way Ashawyn looked at the money enviously.

When they left the shop, Cyrus with his new Linmeyelle, there was nothing else that Cyrus needed to buy. Since Ashawyn wanted to browse a bit longer, they parted ways. Cyrus, who had quite a bit of homework to get ahead of because of survival training all Saturday and Sunday, locked himself in his room for the rest of the night and did homework.

_oOo_

"ALRIGHT YOU LAZY PACK OF _FIGRISH, _WE ARE HERE BECAUSE YOU ARE GOING TO PROVE THAT YOU CAN SURVIVE IN A HOSTILE ENVIRONMENT FOR TWO DAYS! AS YOU HAVE HAD A WEEK TO PREPARE FOR THIS EXERCISE, NO BITCHING AND MOANING! ONCE WE BEGIN, YOU WILL HAVE NO CONTACT WITH THE WORLD OUTSIDE THIS FOREST. IF YOU ATTEMPT TO LEAVE THE WARDED AREA, YOU WILL FAIL THIS CLASS. IF YOU DIE, YOU WILL FAIL THIS CLASS. IF YOU ARE FATALLY WOUNDED AND I HAVE TO GO IN THERE TO DRAG YOUR SORRY ASS BACK TO SHIKAAN, YOU FAIL THIS TRAINING SESSION. ANY QUESTIONS!"

There was dead silence, so Welkins tossed a box into the middle of the crowd. "THESE ARE PORTKEYS INTO THE FOREST. TAKE ONE, AND ONE ONLY," he barked again, his drill sergeant voice easily carrying across the clearing. "THEY WILL ACTIVATE ONE MINUTE AFTER YOU PICK THEM UP. SEE YOU IN TWO DAYS!"

Cyrus let out a breath and summoned a portkey to him, not wanting to try and push his way through the crowd. A piece of paper flew into his hand after a moment, and he waited on the sidelines for the portkey to activate, watching the rest of the class. Welkins stayed at the front, probably checking that everyone took a portkey. A few had tried to skip out on past obstacle course classes, but after the first time they never tried again. Cyrus wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what Welkins did to them, but they were the most eager to finish the courses after that.

Catching sight of Yalmireth in the crowd, he wondered whether he should wave hello or not. The demon still wasn't talking to him, after all… But the decision was made for him when Yalmireth disappeared with his portkey. He didn't have long to wait after that to disappear himself.

The section of forest he appeared in was near a creek. He could hear the quiet bells of water splashing over stones. While Shikaan still had snow on the ground, this forest only had a few patches in the deepest bits of shade, meaning they were quite a ways away from their usual territory. That meant he should be prepared for anything. Welkins hadn't given the students any reason to be against one another, which probably meant that this forest was a lot more dangerous than it appeared to be. Underestimating Welkins was a stupid idea, and Cyrus didn't entertain it for a moment. Closing his eyes, he spread out his senses. He'd experimented a few times with his magic sensitivity during the past week, but he was still mostly confused by whatever he managed to pick up at a given moment, and he had no depth perception at all. He could only tell how far away someone was if they were within ten meters of him, which didn't give much warning when it came to avoiding danger in the woods.

What he could tell, though, is that there were more magical beings in this forest than there were students in his class. Which probably meant that either Welkins had set up people for them to fight against, or there were a lot of beasts wandering around. Or both.

At that moment, he felt movement behind him and jumped to the side. He was too slow to avoid getting his leg sliced, however, and since he had no armor he was already bleeding all over the place. Casting a quick healing charm, since he didn't have the time or concentration at that very moment to heal all the damage, he brought out his wand and cast a slew of silent curses. He had no intention of drawing any more attackers to his position. Whatever had just attacked him let out a squeal and fell out of the tree it had been hiding in. Seeing that it was an animal, Cyrus cast a quick heart-exploding curse to finish it off. Holding his holly wand in one hand, he moved his left to cover the wound on his leg and started stitching it together and healing the damage. Once he finished a minute later, he cleaned up the blood with another wave of his hand and went closer to the animal he'd just killed.

It was the weirdest mix of ape and snake he'd ever seen. Not sure it was even edible, and having stores of food and water already packed into his bottomless and weightless basilisk skin pouches, he made his way away from the body before anything else came to investigate. Like babies looking for their mother, or an even _bigger_ predator.

Not wanting to get caught off guard again, Cyrus took out his death stick and sheathed the holly. It was looking pretty likely at this point that he might need to shoot of an extremely powerful, destructive curse at a moments notice, and his phoenix feather wand wasn't exactly built for that. Reaching for the dagger on his belt, he pulled it loose and held it in his right hand. He kept his senses aware at all times, as ten meter notice was better than no notice, and tried not to get killed.

Later that evening found him with may holes in his clothes, countless healed wounds, and a cave that he'd stolen from a pack of wild pig-looking things with wings. There was a fresh water pond nearby that the flying pigs had probably drank water from before he appropriated their home, and a couple fruit trees that he was tempted to eat from but not suicidal enough to try. He had enough food that he didn't need to chance poisoning by accident. After casting stasis charms on the dead pigs to keep them from rotting and attracting more predators, he made the cave scent and sound tight, and cast as many wards as he knew to keep himself undetected and undisturbed for the night.

Letting out a relieved breath, he pulled out a bottle of water and drank it down. He also ate some protein bars to help his body repair itself. Healing magic only got you so far, after all, and his body needed to repair muscle and tissue damage that he'd sustained during the day.

Leaning back against the wall of the cave, he closed his eyes and let out a weary breath, trailing off into sleep.

He was rudely awoken by a set of teeth sinking into his leg. Letting out a frightened shout, his magic exploded out of his body and sent whatever had just attacked him flying into the wall. Creating some balls of light to illuminate the cave, he stared in shock at the sight of the flying pigs that he'd killed earlier that day slowly approaching them. Scrambling to his feet, he drew his death stick and cast curses to kill them, but nothing happened. They just kept on coming. His leg hurt, too, more than it should have with it being a simple… bite…

Eyes widening, he looked down at his leg and swore at the sight of a black wound. Zombies. They were fucking _zombies_. Running out of the cave, he held his death stick towards the opening and cast fiendfyre.

The explosion, stronger than he'd estimated, sent him flying back into a tree. Groaning, he tried to get his panic under control. They had no way to leave the forest, and no professional healers to keep them alive if they were wounded. But, it was _zombies_. Fucking- There was no fucking way that- It had to be a Shikaan student. Welkins wasn't bat-shit crazy enough to send a fucking necromancer out here to kill his students. Someone in his Necromancy class was trying to kill him, and they were going to succeed if he didn't get this zombie bite under control, _fast._

Swearing some more under his breath, he tried to remember absolutely everything Svea had told him about healing zombie bites the last time he'd gotten bitten. Okay. First, he had to slow the flow of blood in the area. Zombie bites affected mostly the flesh itself, but if left alone for long enough the blood would transport bits of the dying flesh to other parts of your body and kill you. It was similar to poison, but not quite the same, as it was like a form of magical gangrene.

Once he'd isolated his leg and stopped flow of blood to the damaged areas altogether, he moved quickly to try to neutralize the dying flesh before it could spread. Unfortunately, whatever Svea had done to his leg wasn't so easy to replicate. He hadn't 'felt' the magic in so long that he had no idea how to even begin trying to 'copy' it. Fuck. Alright, what was the other option? He could just cut off all the dying flesh and then try to grow it back. That would be fucking painful, though. And he had no idea if necromancers could do something with their… he paused. He could control dead zombies… maybe he could draw the death magic from the wound? It was better than cutting off half of his leg.

Letting out a slow breath, he tried to relax. Taking the precious seconds it took to switch from his natural magic to death magic, he hoped to whatever gods out there that this worked. Calling his death magic to the surface, he reached for magic that was eating his leg like a five course meal.

It felt… a lot different than his own. He could almost taste the flavor of it. Spicy and angry. It was confused, too, though. It couldn't tell whether his flesh was dead or alive anymore, and had stopped 'eating' the life in it. Fascinated, Cyrus called more of his magic to the surface and let it circulate through his body. The foreign magic became even more confused, and tried to 'attack' his magic. He had more of it, though, and he was far more powerful than the little bite trying to consume him. Throwing his magic at the infecting worm, he tried to push it from his body. It resisted. It had consumed those dead cells, and they were _its_, not Cyrus's. Getting irritated, he smothered the magic with his own and absorbed it into his own death magic. With an almost audible shriek, it drowned in the ocean of power.

Turning to examine the dead flesh in his leg, Cyrus wondered what he was supposed to do now. Could he heal it with his magic? Did he just have to cut it off? Or could he 'suck' the death out of it like he'd done with the death magic itself? But it was supposed to be impossible to bring things back to life, too… Rubbing his forehead in confusion, he poked the gray flesh on his leg. It would probably just be easier to cut it out and regrow it at this point. How the hell had Svea healed his last wound, anyway.

Sighing, he sealed his death magic back in it's core and let his natural magic flow freely through his body again. Curious, he tested his leg for movement. Apparently the muscles weren't too badly damaged because he could still walk fine. Casting a quick spell that conjured gauze and wrapped it around the intended target, he figured it was best to get safe again before he settled down for a long-term healing. It appeared as though the fiendfyre had finished consuming the dead flesh, too, because the fires had died down while he'd been smothering the death magic in his leg.

Making his way back to the cave, he was surprised when he heard a gasped "help". Turning to the left, where the sound had come from, he was surprised to see one of his classmates collapsed on the bank of the pond. Casting a wary glance around the dark forest around him that was illuminated only by the moon above, he made his way over to the gasping body.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, putting a hand on her arm. Her breathing was far too weak, and her skin felt feverish.

"P-poi… son… w-wat… ter."

Alarmed, Cyrus pulled her farther away from the pond. It was poisoned? How the hell had that happened? It had to be recent, because the pigs were still alive when he found this cave. Had they done it before or after the zombies failed? Probably before. Poison was harder to trace back to an assailant compared to death magic. And he had a taste for his attacker now. He knew without a doubt, if he ever found that particular brand of death magic again, he would be able to recognize it.

But he had other things to worry about at that moment. Casting a levitating charm, he took her back to the cave, setting up the wards and charms all over again, as the fiendfyre had consumed them along with the dead flesh. Casting a small light to illuminate the student, he checked her eyes and confirmed that she was completely out of it. Closing his eyes, he sent his magic into her body to assess the situation.

The poison in her body was killing her quickly. If he didn't move fast, she was going to be dead in less than ten minutes. Not wasting the energy to swear, he moved quickly to remove the poison from her major organs and brain as quickly as possible, not pausing for a single break. He started with her liver, which was already beginning to fail from the amount of toxin it was trying to remove from her bloodstream. Even though it was a very strong poison, he had to admit it was easier to remove than what had almost killed Remus and all those kids. It didn't attack every single cell directly, instead its presence caused the body to fail as a whole, and while this allowed it to kill its victims faster, it also made it easier to remove.

Just over ten minutes later, Cyrus finished removing the last of the poison. He was tempted to burn it, but turning it into a mist to inhale could be just as deadly. Instead, he used wandless magic to banish it back into the pond outside. He would have to tell Welkins about the poisoning before too many animals died. He still couldn't believe that someone was trying to kill him. And he still had all of tomorrow to survive this hellish forest before the wards were dropped and they could escape. _And_ he had gangrenous bite on his leg. A gangrenous bite that he had no idea how to cure without cutting it out.

Letting out a sigh, he leaned back against the wall of the cave. He wasn't falling asleep again until he got out of this place.

During the next five hours he entertained himself with the Runes book written by Rivehn himself about how runes and wild magic were different – the latter of which was a magic that was not driven by a logical formation of runes to create focus and meaning but instead through less concrete things like emotions and nature. With the sun rising and slipping into the cave, Cyrus's patient finally awoke. He watched her as she frowned blearily, her body still tired from healing and the trauma it had been through after being poisoned. Slowly, she lifted her head and caught sight of him. She blinked.

"W-who?" she croaked.

Cyrus put his book down and reached into his pouch to pull out a bottle of water. Standing, he screwed off the lid as he made his way over to her. He hadn't settled her far away, but he hadn't known if she was a threat or not, so the distance had been a security blanket of a sort for him. Kneeling next to her, he held the bottle to her lips. She drank greedily, and he had to remind her a few times to take it easy; he wasn't going anywhere.

When she'd finished the whole bottle, she let her head relax against the pillow he'd conjured for her earlier. He wasn't sure what to make of the expression on her face, but she seemed quite happy to be alive. "What's your name?" she asked with a dreamy smile.

He stared. "Cyrus Obsidian. What about you?"

"Delanie Laurent. You can call me Delanie, since you saved me from that poisoned water." She nodded to herself and said with a completely straight face, "Poison is such a terrible way to die."

Cyrus blinked. "Uh… huh. So how'd you get yourself poisoned, anyway?"

"Well, I was protecting this friend I made – he was cute, furry, and small, hardly able to protect himself sufficiently – when I was attacked by this monster that looked like an ape with scales," she said in an airy, but serious voice. "When I dodged him, the claws caught my bag and it fell into a ravine. I hadn't foreseen that… So I was getting a drink of water from this pond. It looked clean enough, and the spells I cast didn't reveal anything wrong with it, and why would Welkins purposely sabotage a natural habitat? I know for a fact that he's a tree hugger that supports animal rights. So I drank it, got poisoned, you saved me, and here we are. Do you want a reward?" She leaned forward with a questioning look on her face, showing off her little cleavage, and Cyrus took multiple steps back as a precaution.

"No, thanks. No reward necessary. I'd just like to survive this forest long enough to get home and get a good night's sleep."

She hummed thoughtfully. "I knew you'd say that, but the expression on your face was quite entertaining. Though I do wonder why someone would poison the pond. Do you have any idea? Is someone trying to kill you?"

Cyrus stared. "What? Kill me? What made you jump to that conclusion?"

She waved a hand dismissively and sat upright. "Oh my, this ground is rather charred. Did you have an accident last night? I recall a flash of light before the lights went out."

Cyrus frowned. "Ah, yeah. Some zombies att-"

"Zombies? Out here? Oh my. So a necromancer really _is_ out to kill you. How terrible. Did you get injured? Bite on the leg perhaps?" Without waiting for his response, she stood and pulled up his left pant-leg, revealing the bandage. "Oh dear, you really did. Terrible. If you don't try to revascularize it, the tissue could die and you'd have to remove it, you know."

Cyrus stared down into the matter-of-fact gray-blue eyes and frowned. "What? How- revascularization? You mean, blood flow?"

She blinked. "Yes, sure. That."

"How the- how did- how do you know all this?"

She smiled vaguely, staring off to the side with a spacey expression. "I'm a clairvoyant. And _you_ are many things. You might want to hurry up and do that blood flow thing. Oh hey, can I have one of those protein bars? I'm famished."

Cyrus couldn't quite wrap his brain around it. "Clairvoyant?" he asked numbly as he absently pulled out a protein bar and handed it to her. She unwrapped it and consumed it with a flat expression, nodding at his question. "So, what, you can see the future?"

She shook her head. "Not quite. I see flashes of possibilities. You could say… I'm a good guesser."

"And why couldn't you see that the water was poisoned?"

She shrugged. "A clairvoyant never sees images of themselves and their own future. As we all have the power of choice, I can see the futures of other people because they make choices based on their current knowledge and circumstances. However, if I were able to see my own future and make decisions based on it, my possible futures would become infinite and I would be driven insane. Thus, no visions of my future."

Cyrus blinked. "Oh."

She nodded. "You might want to start revascularizing. The longer you wait the more tissue isn't going to be recovered."

Cautiously, Cyrus sat down on the ground and started removing his bandages. When Delanie appeared to be content with munching on her protein bar and stealing his own bottle of water, half-drunk, he focused his attention on the dead tissue with a thoughtful frown. He knew what revascularization meant, but he'd never thought that it could be used to rejuvenate dead cells, just that occasionally you had to cut off blood flow to an area and then revascularize it when you were done. Mentally shrugging – it wasn't like doing so would kill him or anything – he placed his hands over the wound and started pushing the blood back into the damaged areas. It started bleeding at once, obviously, but as he knit the flesh back together and revitalized the cells, he watched in amazement as the previously dead tissues began to come back to life. With a little gentle nudging from his magic, most of the tissue was saved and healed. He had to cut off some of the skin that had been torn the worst and attacked first by the zombie bite, but other than a barely visible scar, his leg was fine after fifteen minutes of heavy healing.

Opening his eyes after he finished, he was startled by the sight of Delanie's face inches from his own, and by flinching backwards his head connected with the rock wall of the cave. Cursing under his breath, he rubbed the back of his head and glared at the girl across from him. "Some personal space, please?"

She nodded and moved back to her original position, as if she'd done nothing unusual. "You know, if you want to sleep, I can keep an eye out for the guy trying to kill you. You stayed awake most of the night, didn't you?"

Cyrus frowned. "And how do I know you're not going to… just leave, or kill me, or steal all of my stuff?"

She looked mildly surprised, as if it hadn't even occurred to her. "Oh. Well, what's the point of stealing your things when you'll share your food with me? And what's the point of making enemies with the guy who saved your life and is the most powerful human in our year? It's illogical and pointless. I'll go sit by the head of the cave and keep guard. You get some sleep." She moved without waiting for his response.

Watching Delanie go, still not quite sure what to think about her, Cyrus yawned. It was true that he was dead tired after healing both Delanie and himself. Grabbing her pillow, he conjured himself a new mattress and rolled onto his side. After casting a dozen warning and proximity charms on his person and his belongings, he fell asleep.

And woke some hours later, feeling much better. A quick check with his magic sensitivity revealed that there was indeed someone sitting, stationary, at the head of the cave. Yawning, he stretched and forced himself to his feet. After vanishing the mattress and pillow before he was tempted right back into bed, he fished out another protein bar and bottle of water as he made his way to the head of the cave.

Delanie was sitting there, like a stone, staring into the woods. He wondered if she saw something he didn't.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Cyrus let out an amused snort of air. "Don't you already know?"

She turned to him with that flat expression and cracked the smallest of smiles. "Yes, but it's always nice to hear it."

He sat down next to her on the ground and handed her another protein bar and bottle of water. He had to take a piss. "You been sitting here this whole time?"

She nodded. "I believe it is safest to remain here until the end of the survival training. The poisonous water has already killed some animals, and their corpses scare off other animals. It is unlikely that the creatures in these woods will venture close."

Cyrus made a thoughtful noise. "Do you mind if I go relieve myself?"

She shook her head. "Might I suggest, however, that proper stealth measures are necessary in order to avoid the adversary who intends to kill you? He already knows this location, after all. Perhaps it is best that you relieve yourself at the back of the cave, and then vanish the evidence?"

Cyrus blinked. "Actually, that's not a bad idea." He cast a wary eye into the forest as he stood up. "Is he out there right now?"

She nodded. "Yes. I have yet to see a face, but I am picking up… intentions, you might say. He has reason to seek revenge. He is not doing it for amusement. That should help narrow your suspects."

"Thanks," Cyrus said, nodding to her. She just inclined her head and kept staring into the woods.

Walking to the back of the cave, Cyrus wondered who exactly would want to kill him. Dalesh was the first person that came to mind, but he was dead. Maybe it was a friend of the vampire? He _had_ inadvertently caused his death, after all.

Looking forward to the end of their 'training' exercise, Cyrus finally relieved his bladder. He needed to learn those spells that healers used for their immovable patients. When he finally got his new suit back, he wouldn't be able to just slip open the front to take a leak anymore. Which had been the whole point of ordering a one-piece in the first place, of course. He didn't want anyone just 'slipping' their hand inside when it suited them. Once was enough.

_oOo_

Both Cyrus and Delanie managed to escape death on Sunday, though there was one close call with a poison in the air that had nearly been blown into their cave. Delanie, however, seeing Cyrus's 'death', blew it back at their assailant with very good aim. Needless to say, the guy fucked off for the rest of the day.

As the time marking the end of their 'training' approached, Delanie ended up giving him her magi-com number, saying he'd call her eventually. Not one to disbelieve her abilities after seeing them in action, he accepted the number without much protest. The moment the wards were down they both disapparated back to the clearing where Welkins was waiting for them. After taking attendance, he sent them all home and went about hunting down the rest of their class. It was a pretty big forest, after all. Cyrus caught sight of Delanie going up to the man before he disapparated, probably to tell him about the poisoned water.

After Cyrus went home, he had a quick shower and collapsed into bed. He was too tired to enjoy a long one. The rest of the week was just as busy as he fought to catch up and get ahead for the _next_ weekend. He had every intention of taking a mini vacation. A hot spring sounded like heaven after his hellish weekend.

_oOo_

"You have everything?" Ashawyn asked for the third time.

Cyrus rolled his eyes, beginning to feel irritated. "Yes, for the last time, I have everything, even that weird shit you told me to bring. What's with your tea fetish?"

The fae laughed nervously. "Well, I brought some things that I know you'll enjoy, I just wanted you to bring me something too."

"Riiight. Are we going yet?"

Ashawyn chuckled. "So impatient. Yes, we are leaving. May I touch your arm for the apparition?"

The fae had been very considerate of his 'touch' problem ever since he found out about it nearly two weeks ago. When he'd caught on to Tara's 'mission', as she called it, he'd happily joined in the occasional Cyrus-touching. Unlike Tara, however, he'd asked permission first, which had got him in everyone's good books. Even Xanthir – who apparently had been told by Tara about the touch thing and was now bumping into him like an eager puppy whenever it suited him.

"Yes," he finally said, snapping out of his thoughts. When the hand touched his arm, Cyrus felt no flash of nausea or disgust at the sensation. The past two weeks had done a lot to increase his trust of the fae. The insensitivity that had nearly had him going into a fit after their first meetings had evaporated – though that didn't make Ashawyn any less of a pervert. He loved to tease Cyrus about how good he looked on a regular basis, and made sure Cyrus was looking when he raked his eyes appreciatively over his toning body. Because it happened nearly every day, he started to get used to it, though he was no less embarrassed by it.

He and Ashawyn were pretty much 'dating' at this point, although Cyrus didn't let him go any farther than kissing. He wasn't sure if Ashawyn had planned this weekend just as a way to get into Cyrus's pants, and he wasn't sure if that bothered him or not. He'd been having… well, he'd been having thoughts lately. And dreams. But he wasn't sure he was ready to take the plunge, so to speak. 'I'll just have to go with the flow if it, I guess…'

The squeezing sensation of apparition pulled him out of his thoughts, and the next he knew he was standing at the bottom of a mountain. Snow still covered the ground, Cyrus was glad to see. Hiking through water-logged mud in the middle of springtime weather was not his idea of a good time.

They spent most of the day hiking, stopping often to stare at the beautiful scenery. It was a nice day; not completely cloudless, but mostly. After a bit of prompting, Ashawyn happily started talking about the myths and culture surrounding the mountain, which eventually led them to the culture of the fae in general. Cyrus, eager to learn as much as he could, kept asking questions. It wasn't often that he could just pick the brain of someone who had lived in Other Realm their entire life. Often even Tara and Xanthir forgot that Cyrus was from Human Realm, or that he was even human at all, so sometimes he had to just keep his questions to himself or risk sounding like an idiot. With Ashawyn, though, he didn't have to worry about sounding stupid. The fae never made him feel like he should already _know_ something that was apparently 'obvious'.

They didn't reach the hot spring part of the mountain until around dinner time, so Cyrus let Ashawyn set up the magical tent that the fae had asked him to pick up while he cooked them something to eat over an open fire. He still hadn't learned any fae dishes, but from some of the bizarre things Ashawyn had had him pick up at the market in Gemini Square, the fae was going to cook. And Cyrus, of course, wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to get Ashawyn to teach him some fae dishes. He'd never liked cooking at the Dursleys', but ever since he came to Shikaan and got to cook what he wanted, whenever he wanted, it had grown on him. He didn't even mind that Tara and Xanthir came by complaining about the food quality at Shikaan sometimes and just wanted 'a home-cooked meal'.

"Mmm, that smells good. What is it?"

Cyrus smiled. "Well, the steak's for me, but the rest of it's curry. Have you had it before?"

The fae blinked. "Curry? No, I don't believe so. I find it interesting how our dishes vary due to the different foods available to us. For instance, we do not have what you call… rice? What we have is similar, but much more flavorful."

Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, flipping his steak over on the grill he'd conjured. He liked them kissed by fire. "I've noticed that, actually. Your food has much more flavor than ours, too. Why is that?"

Ashawyn stole a piece of cooked vegetable and nibbled it. "I believe it is because Other Realm is enriched by magic. Human Realm possesses many 'dead spots' where there is little natural magic, but Other Realm was born from magic itself and is therefore, every part of it, enriched with magic."

"Oh. That's interesting. How did Other Realm come to exist, anyway?"

Ashawyn chuckled and snuck another piece of vegetable, easily avoiding Cyrus's attempt at a hand-slap. "The details are a bit shady, actually. Some ancient groups claimed that it was their doing, but they've been proven false over the years as old ruins have been dug up and dated. Some think an ancient power created this world so that magical and non-magical people could live separate. Some claim that this world came first, but that has also been proven incorrect by various archeological digs. No one knows for sure what happened."

Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, serving the food onto two plates. He made sure to serve Ashawyn first to avoid the meat contaminating the fae's curry. Once it was finished, he let Ashawyn pull him inside the tent he'd bought. He hadn't asked for anything spectacular when he went shopping, as he just wanted two beds, a bathroom, and enough space that they wouldn't be tripping over one another, and it seemed that he'd gotten what he wanted. It was actually a little bit on the edge of lavish for his tastes, so he started redecorating the garish red and gold colors to greens and browns. And then Ashawyn redid the whole thing, with the color scheme, and it looked loads better.

"How'd you do that?" Cyrus asked before popping a piece of steak in his mouth.

Ashawyn put his wand away. "My sister is very… well, she's not feminine let's say. When I showed an interest, my mother taught me all the house spells instead. She taught me how to cook, as well. How did you learn how to cook? I've noticed you're quite good, for making human dishes." He smiled, showing he hadn't meant any real offense.

Cyrus looked down at his plate. "The people I grew up with taught me."

"Were they relatives of yours?"

"Yes. But they weren't really… family, if you know what I mean." He glanced upwards and caught sight of an understanding expression on the fae's face.

"I see. I take it they are different people than your guardian?"

"Guardians. There's two of them. A werewolf and a vampire…"

"Oh, that's interesting. It's rare that those species ever get over their differences and get together. Which one was injured? You told me he was healthy again, but I never really inquired about details…"

"Remus. The werewolf. He had silver poisoning."

Ashawyn's eyebrows rose. "Oh my. Is there any long-term damage?" Cyrus shook his head. "Well, that must have been a relief for you. Are you close?"

The human chewed thoughtfully, hesitating. He wouldn't exactly call them 'close', would he? They hadn't actually known each other for that long. They never really did anything together. They weren't exactly 'typical' guardians either, having saved him from a delusional, lunatic of an old man. "Not really, but… they're there, you know? If I need them… And I'd jump into crazy situations to save them if I had to." And he _had_.

Ashawyn smiled. "That's sounds close enough."

Cyrus's lips twitched half-heartedly. "You think so?"

"Well, it seems to me that you're not really used to getting close and personal with anyone. You kept me at arms length for a while, and even now you only tell a sliver of the story, and I'm not saying that's a bad thing; don't get me wrong. I'm happy with whatever you want to share, I'm just saying that it doesn't seem unusual that you're not buddy-buddy with your guardians." The fae shrugged.

Cyrus's head dipped in acknowledgement. It was true, really. He wasn't sure he knew if he was even _capable_ of having parental figures in his life. He'd always been alone, and he was used to it. Actually, thinking of it that way, he was really glad that neither Remus nor Severus tried to jump in and start controlling his life. Sure, Severus had kept him locked in the house until he'd learned how to protect his mind, but that had been for his safety, and he'd understood _why_ it was for his safety. There was nothing more infuriating than having an adult coddle you and keep you locked up in Grimmauld Place while shit went on outside and you wanted to help.

"You look like you've remembered something particularly unpleasant."

Cyrus snapped out of his dreary thoughts to see Ashawyn watching him with concern. He shook his head. "It's nothing. Just old memories."

The fae said nothing, not prying into something Cyrus obviously didn't want to talk about, and for that the human was grateful. Dinner conversation turned lighter again as Ashawyn shared a story about his childhood penchant of dressing up in his mother's expensive evening gowns, and the time that he'd tripped and fallen down the stairs with it on. Cyrus could see the love in the fae's eyes when he affectionately spoke of her ignoring the damaged dress and worrying over his injuries. It made him feel a pang in his heart to hear about something he'd never had the opportunity to experience, but he forced himself out of his dreary thoughts. Ashawyn was telling a funny story; the least Cyrus could do was laugh.

After they finished dinner, they went straight for the hot water, racing each other across the snow-covered ground in bare feet, and Cyrus accidentally shoved Ashawyn too hard and pushed him into an embankment of snow. Things quickly dissolved into snowball fight until Cyrus finally made it to the spring and jumped inside, only to let out a shriek at the abrupt temperature change. His hands and feet, previously frozen, burned unpleasantly as the rest of his body lavished in the heat. Swimming through the mist to the other side of the pool to avoid any more snowballs, he smiled at the sensation of pebbles beneath his feet. That is, until he stubbed his toe on a rock. Cussing loudly, he felt around the rock to see if he could pull it out and throw it with satisfaction. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a part of the base of the pool.

"Careful! What did you hurt?" Ashawyn asked through the mist, and Cyrus could hear him slowly ease himself into the water with quiet splashing.

"I stubbed my toe on this fucking rock!"

Ashawyn laughed, and Cyrus sulked and nursed his toe. When the fae appeared out of the mist right in front of him, he let out a yelp and backed up through the water, flailing his arms unattractively in order to stay afloat when it got deeper.

The ice fae laughed harder. "What are you, a drowning rat?" he asked in between gasps for air.

Cyrus glared. "I can't swim, you arse!"

Quickly after that, Ashawyn had taken him around the waist and dragged him back to shallower waters. "You should have said so. That half of the pool is a lot deeper," he said, quite serious.

Cyrus blushed. "Yeah, well… It's embarrassing. Not knowing how to swim."

Ashawyn shook his head. "Some things not everyone has the opportunity to learn. I could teach you, if you'd like?"

Cyrus opened his mouth to answer when he realized exactly how… 'close' they were. Flushing red at the feeling of Ashawyn's body flush against his own, he gently pushed away and walked closer into the shallow end. "That'd be nice," he said someone shakily, his lower regions already taking 'interest'.

"A hot spring isn't exactly ideal for learning to swim, but we could go to a lake this summer."

"Oka- Ashawyn, what are you doing?"

The fae had come up behind him and was massaging his shoulders. "Helping you relax. Aren't you stiff from all the work you've been doing lately? Neck sore from cramming over a desk? Body tired from your battle class?"

Cyrus groaned as these reminders made the pain come into the forefront of his mind again. Normally he did a good job ignoring it, but now Ashawyn had reminded him of all his physical discomforts.

"Let me make it all go away," the fae whispered in his ear, gently leading him over to the side of the pool. He sat leaned back against a group of rocks that looked like they had been designed to be a chair of sorts, and pulled Cyrus in between his legs for easier access. When the human opened his mouth to say something, Ashawyn stopped any protests by digging his thumbs into the knots in between Cyrus's shoulder blades, relishing in the groan it elicited. He kept the human incoherent that way, manipulating his body to release tension.

As a side effect, Cyrus found himself rather aroused, and he was sure that what he occasionally felt brushing against his backside through his swim shorts was _not_ a log. He couldn't bring himself to pull away, though; it just felt so _good_. He was almost falling asleep in a pleasant haze when the massage stopped, and again he couldn't bring himself to move. Ashawyn slipped his arms around Cyrus's middle and gently held him in place, floating, so Cyrus relaxed and let his head fall back against the fae's shoulder. It was so comfortable, he even chose to ignore Ashawyn's own, obvious erection. They stayed like that for almost an hour, though Cyrus fell asleep quickly, and Ashawyn only woke him when the heat was starting to go to their heads.

Not wanting to leave the heat to walk across really cold snow to get to their tent, Cyrus just turned around, wrapped his arms around Ashawyn's middle, and apparated them straight onto the bed in the tent. Ashawyn was tense under him, but Cyrus didn't notice, absently casting a drying spell on both of them and conjuring a comforter to cover them and keep them in a warm cocoon. He was too lazy to try to get their actual blankets out from underneath them.

"You're not supposed to be able to apparate into enlarged spaces, you know. Has to do with the… the dimension folding or something," Ashawyn said after a moment of silence.

Cyrus grunted. "Well, I just did. So whatever," he muttered, borrowing his face into the fae's neck. He was too comfortable to move, even with the fae's erection nudging his hip and his own asking for attention. He just wanted to sleep.

And sleep he did.

When he woke up the next, it was to Ashawyn slipping back under the covers. Not wanting to get out of the heat himself, he cast the bladder-relieving charm he'd learned after last week's survival training escapade and burrowed back into his heat source. He was asleep again in no time.

The next time he woke, it was to the sensation of lips gently kissing his neck. Not finding it unpleasant, he pretended to still be asleep to see how far Ashawyn would go. But for almost half an hour, it didn't go any farther than kissing, nibbling, and sucking, so Cyrus rolled over and got closer to his heat source. He was horny. On a normal morning, he'd be taking care of his morning 'problem' by himself in the shower. This morning, however, he had a very warm, very nice, very _hot_ fleshy pillow.

"You hungry?" Ashawyn asked softly.

Cyrus grunted.

The fae chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. You want me to cook something while you take care of… you know?"

Cyrus was torn. Eventually, though, logic won over. "I think that… might be best."

When Ashawyn just nodded and slipped out of the bed, Cyrus pulled the comforter over his head and flushed red. He'd wanted it. He wanted to know what another person's hand felt like on his flesh. He'd enjoyed the massage last night so much he'd gotten a hard on, even though he'd been too tired to do anything about it at the time. Hearing Ashawyn leave the tent, he pulled the blankets down far enough so he could check that the fae had indeed left. His nose got frozen for its trouble. Why was it so bloody cold! Casting a heating charm on the whole room, he let out a sigh when his cold face began to warm up. Reaching down, he took himself in his hand and gasped at the rush of sensation that tingled his every nerve ending and curled his toes. Not sure how quickly Ashawyn would be back, he finished himself off as quickly as possible, feeling embarrassed about doing it with the fae so nearby.

When Ashawyn came back twenty minutes later, Cyrus had cleaned up the mess he'd made of the sheets and was already dressed. The fae was walking around in nothing but the shorts from the night before.

"Aren't you cold?" Cyrus asked, confused as to why the fae wasn't shaking like a leaf.

"Huh?" Ashawyn looked confused for a moment before understanding dawned and he laughed. "Ice fae are unaffected by the cold. It's part of our species' natural magic."

"Oh." And there was one more tidbit of information that of course he didn't know because he wasn't from Other Realm. At least Ashawyn ever rubbed it in his face.

"I finished breakfast. It's on the table I transfigured. Do you mind eating outside?"

Cyrus shook his head. "With a few warming charms I'll be fine."

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence, just enjoying the sun that stretched across the banks of snow and lit up the small clearing. Halfway through the meal, Ashawyn nudged him in the leg and shushed him with a finger to the lips, pointing at something behind him. Frowning, Cyrus turned around, eyes widening at the sight of a hippogriff checking out their tent. Almost as if sensing their eyes on it, it turned to them with the gold eyes of a predator.

Slipping out of his seat without a thought, Cyrus bowed to the beast and hoped he wouldn't have to kill it. He'd always had a soft spot for hippogriffs after Buckbeak. Hoping that Ashawyn had followed his example, he waited as the animal came closer, eventually getting close enough to ruffle the hairs at the back of Cyrus's neck with its breath.

When it finally bowed in return, Cyrus let out a relieved breath and slowly straightened, making no sudden movements. Not every hippogriff liked to be touched, after all. Keeping his eyes on the sharp beak and talon, he hesitantly raised a hand to its face and petted the soft feathers there. It allowed his touch for a few moments before pulling back and walking far enough away to take off into the skies.

Grinning, Cyrus turned to see Ashawyn staring at him. "What?" he asked defensively, adrenaline still high from the close call.

The ice fae just shook his head and smiled. "You were utterly fearless. Have you been around Hippogriffs before?"

Cyrus nodded and sat back down in his seat to finish breakfast. "Yeah. I got to ride one, too. Almost as good as riding a broomstick."

"You enjoy flying?"

Cyrus let out a small sigh. "Yes… I miss it. I haven't had much chance to fly since I came here." And flying through Hogwarts trying to escape Dumbledore didn't count.

"We could fly if you want."

Cyrus looked up from his breakfast, an inquiring look on his face.

"Do you have a broom? We could fly around the mountain if you like."

Cyrus's lips parted in surprise for a moment. "Uh… I don't, actually. I didn't see much point for having it when I can apparate, and Shikaan doesn't have a Quidditch team."

"But you could go buy one, right? I have a broom myself. Haven't used it since I was quite young, but I still keep it with me just in case I need it."

Cyrus shrugged. "I guess… yeah, I could go buy one. But I can't really justify spending the money. I have no need for a broom." The truth was, he wanted his _old_ Firebolt back. The one Sirius had bought for him, and buying a new one would only remind him every single day of how Sirius was dead. And once you'd tasted the power and agility of a Firebolt, it was painful going back. So, he didn't want to buy a new broom.

Ashawyn frowned. "I don't really understand… you could use my broom if you want? I wouldn't mind."

Biting his lip, Cyrus considered. The itch to fly was battling against the depression the whole topic had brought up. Lost in his thoughts, he was surprised back to the real world by a hand gently shaking his shoulder. Blinking, Cyrus looked down at the broom that was held out to him.

"My grandfather made it. He wasn't an internationally known broom maker, but they're known for their durability. I'm sure it has a bit more of a kick than human brooms, too. Want to try?"

With the broom right there in front of him, it was hard to say no. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on it and gasped at the sensation of his magic and the broom syncing. He'd always felt a bit of a rush when placing his hand on a good broomstick before, but he'd never felt like _this_. Did it have to do with his magic sensitivity?

Throwing caution to the wind, his spirits already soaring with the _need_ to fly, he put the broom between his legs and blasted into the skies above. A bought of laughter burst out of him before he could stop it at the sheer thrill of being in the air again. The speed of the broom between his legs was amazing. Although not quite as perfect as a Firebolt, it was close, and this was only the broom of a local maker. Grinning widely, he tested how fast he could push it by racing towards the tip of the mountain. When his face felt like it was going to be ripped off from the wind blasting into it, he threw up a full-body shield. Since the wind was moving fast enough to be perceived as a solid object by the shield, he cut through the air like butter and moved even faster than before. Laughing, he turned the broom around, careful of the G-forces. If you changed directions and speed too fast, after all, your internal organs could end up smashed against your rib cage and tear.

Whooping with joy, he turned the nose downward to pull of a Wronski Feint. Careful not to push the broom faster than he was used to on a Firebolt, he grinned as he pulled closer to the rocks below. Pulling up at the last second, he pulled to the side in a barrel roll to avoid invisible enemies. Damn, but he missed flying.

When he finally came out of the air a half hour later, Ashawyn was staring at him like he was crazy. Still high from the adrenaline, he dropped his full-body shield and handed over the broom, just barely resisting the urge to cast the most powerful spell he knew, consequences be damned. At that moment he could have happily blown up a good chunk of the mountain, but he restrained himself and tried to find another way to spend the energy.

"Wanna duel?" Cyrus asked, picking the first solution that came to mind.

Ashawyn stared. "Beg your pardon? Duel? What for?"

Cyrus grinned, bouncing on his toes. "Well, I've got a lot of energy. Gotta burn it off somehow!"

Ashawyn shook his head. "I'm not exactly the dueling type. Another reason I didn't go to Shikaan."

Cyrus sulked. Xanthir or Tara would have dueled him, no questions asked, and he'd probably get his ass handed to him in half an hour. Waving his hand, he disintegrated the snow on a section of ground and conjured a mat to go on top of it. Taking off his boots, he hopped on the rather large mat and started going through his almost-daily training. Normally he took the weekends off so his body could rest and heal muscle damage, but he couldn't think of another reasonable way to take the edge off. His magic was roaring at his finger tips, and his physical body felt… hot.

Ignoring Ashawyn's watchful eyes, he let himself sink into a meditative trance as he stretched. After fifteen minutes making sure everything was working right, he started going through his katas – slowly at first, making sure he had all the forms right before he sped up his movements. When he'd finished those, he started doing his strength training with conjured weights. After that, he cooled down with Ouragan's version of yoga, which they had to do after every work out to both cool down and stretch their muscles so they didn't cramp as badly later. It also made them more flexible and agile, which was very helpful for a human who didn't have the same kind of fine muscle control that non-humans did.

At the end of it he felt a little better, but he was still hot, so he removed the warming charm he'd cast on himself earlier that day. Taking a glance around, he saw Ashawyn watching him from where he'd sat at the table.

"You feel any better now?" the fae asked casually, eyes running over Cyrus's sweaty form.

The human shrugged, scratching an itch on his back. "A little." Slipping into his boots, he vanished the matt. "Want to go for a hike?"

Ashawyn's eyebrows rose. "I suppose we could… but we'd have to take down the tent so no animals come and destroy it."

Cyrus weighed the pros and cons of taking the tent down. If only he were taking Warding this year instead of next.

"There are other activities we could do that burn energy," Ashawyn suggested.

Cyrus blinked. "Like what?" he asked. When the fae gave him a look, his brain clicked in the right direction and he blushed. "Uh, I think I'm going to go pop into the hot spring." Before Ashawyn could say a word, he'd disappeared into tent to get changed. It was the first thing that came to mind, really. He wasn't sure getting into a hot spring when he was already hot was a good idea, but whatever helped him avoid _that_ subject. Grimacing down at the only part of him that was quite eager to consider doing the dirty with Ashawyn, he pulled his shorts up and apparated straight to the side of the hot spring. He didn't want the fae to see the hard-on in his shorts and his blushing face. It would totally defeat the purpose of him avoiding Ashawyn in the first place.

Slipping into the hot spring, he tried to find the chair-like outcropping of rocks in order to relax. After a few moments of reacquainting himself with the hot spring in the daytime instead of nighttime, he found it and settled into the nook. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath and let his body relax in the warmth of the water. His head was already a little fuzzy, but he ignored it in favor of the comforting heat.

A gently nudging hand woke him from his haze a while later, and he peaked an eye open to see Ashawyn not far from him. His wilted erection sprung to attention at the sight and smell of the fae so close to him, eliciting a small groan from the human. Hadn't he tried to avoid this? But Ashawyn was really hot, and smelled good, and he was cool. Cyrus wanted to cool down.

"You look really hot," Ashawyn said with an amused smile. "You sure it's a good idea to be in the hot spring?"

Cyrus huffed. "Probably not. I'm really hot, but I don't want to be sore later either."

"I could help with that."

Cyrus blinked hazily. "Really?"

"I'm an ice fae. Cooling your core temperature a bit so you can enjoy a good soak isn't a problem."

"Oh. Fae magic. Go ahead."

Ashawyn placed his hand on Cyrus's shoulder and the human jumped as the cool magic sank under his skin. The bubbling energy that had been calming with his stay in the hot spring suddenly came back to life under his skin, and Cyrus felt something _change_ as Ashawyn's magic mingled inside him, cool. It was so hot, but the magic was cool. He wanted it. He _needed_ more of that coolness.

Without realizing what he was doing, he pulled Ashawyn into a hot kiss. Frost burst into his mouth when the fae gasped, and he licked those cool lips, moaning when Ashawyn took control of the kiss and pushed him against the rock, straddling him. As the fae plundered his mouth, he slipped his hands down to the hips floating in the water above him and pulled them flush against each other. Cyrus gasped at the sensation, while Ashawyn just grinded down onto him and deepened the kiss even more, sucking Cyrus's tongue into his mouth and blowing frost into his lungs. Cyrus returned it in kind, blowing the heat into Ashawyn's own body and making the fae gasp and moan on top of him so he could pull more of the coolness inside. He needed _more_.

_oOo_

**EDITED**

_oOo_

"-rus? Cyrus? Hey, come on, wake up!"

Cyrus groaned and rolled over, feeling like shit. Eugh. Did this always happen after… after… His eyes shot wide open and he sat up in surprise, his head swimming with the movement. Groaning, he let himself be pushed back down onto the bed. He'd… he'd… he could feel his cheeks super-heating. He and Ashawyn had had sex. _Sex_. Oh Merlin… What had he been thinking? What the hell had happened?

"Cyrus? Are you okay? I've been trying to wake you for hours. You've been sick, puking and shaking and going into seizures almost all night!"

Cyrus blinked slowly, eyes having trouble focusing on Ashawyn's face in the dim light. "Huh? Sick?"

The fae nodded. "You've been puking and feverish for hours. I tried to take us back to Shikaan to get you medical help, but every time I touched you your body kept draining my magic back to empty."

The human frowned. "Wha? Drain? Why do I feel like…" His eyes widened in epiphany and he groaned, rubbing his face. "Fuck. That. I forgot about that. I'd hoped it went away."

"What? You hoped what went away."

Cyrus felt his forehead, which was still hot but not burning. "I'm sick. Svea doesn't know what's wrong with me."

Ashawyn frowned. "How did you get sick?"

Cyrus sighed. Tell the fae, don't tell the fae… Well, it appeared as though he'd sucked all the magic out of the guy, _and_ had sex with him, so he might as well. "I got bitten by a vampire a while back. You know when I was sick before? That was just the recovery stage. My body had a very strange reaction to the virus. It fought vampirism off, but afterwards I just kept getting worse. My body was eating my magic for something, we still don't know what. They tried giving me a transfusion of magic, but it didn't help. When it seemed like I was going to run out of magic, there wasn't anything they could do, but before the magic exhaustion could kill me, it stopped. It took my body and magic about a week to recover after that."

Ashawyn's eyesbrows rose. "You… you eat magic?"

Cyrus flushed. "My body does. I don't consciously say 'hey, you taste delicious' and just _eat_ you."

The fae chuckled. "That can have so many meanings." When Cyrus got the joke, he turned crimson, and Ashawyn just laughed. "So, you ate my magic because you're sick. I have to say that it doesn't appear as though magic-eating is your only symptom. You became very… aroused, and your body temperature rose beyond that of a normal human."

Cyrus coughed and looked away, still a little embarrassed about everything.

"Do you regret it?" Ashawyn asked after a moment of silence.

Cyrus's eyes snapped back to shadowed blue. He nervously bit his lip. "I don't… _regret_ it, I just… wish it hadn't happened because my body's fucked up." He looked away again, ashamed. He could remember all of it clearly. He'd been like a sex-crazed fiend and he's just _attacked_ Ashawyn and… he'd used whatever it was, the heat or something, that was driving him crazy, he'd used it on Ashawyn and-

A cool set of lips met his own, snapping him out of his self-destructive thoughts. "Don't worry about that part, Cyrus. I know it's not your fault," he said softly, and then a perverted grin spread across his face. "And the sex was _great_. What was that magic thing you did? I swear my brain nearly exploded after that."

Cyrus blushed and chuckled half-heartedly. "I dunno. I've seen Rivehn and Yankovich do it before." And then his eyes widened in horror at what he'd just admitted.

Ashawyn started laughing his ass off, and Cyrus punched him moodily in the arm. "You have to admit, that image is terribly funny."

The human grumbled. "Yeah. Right. Funny."

Ashawyn grinned and leaned closer to whisper, "It was hot. Admit it. _You_ were hot."

Cyrus looked away, but the blush on his face was obvious. "Jerk."

Ashawyn just laughed. "Right. So, how are we going to get back to Shikaan? I'm tapped out, and I'm pretty sure you are too."

The human grimaced. "Shit. I can't cast magic reliably for a few days at least. We're going to have to wait until you can take us."

The fae sighed and slipped under the covers, surprising the hell out of Cyrus. "Oh, stop complaining. We just had sex, and you slept with me that first night. It's nearly two in the morning. I'm going to need a little sleep to get us back to Shikaan. Budge over."

Moving reluctantly, Cyrus let Ashawyn invade his personal space and tried not to be bothered by it. It wasn't hard, actually. Once he'd felt the heat of fae's body, he curled up next to him and used him for a fleshy pillow. Ashawyn didn't complain and just put an arm around his shoulders.

Nice and toasty, Cyrus fell asleep trying not to think about how busy he was going to be when he woke up in the morning. And the person who was trying to kill him.

_-Toki Mirage-_

:D For those of you who went to aff or lj to see the mature material, I hope you liked it! It's exam week for me, now. Got a test tomorrow I'm going to go study for now… I'm hoping to update this story at least once more before January, but I make no promises.

Thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter TwentyThree: Deathly Eruptions

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty-Three:

_oOo_

Cyrus sighed as he trudged through the hallways back to his room. If he had magic right now, he could have just apparated back, but nooo, he was stuck walking through the halls with no way to defend himself and a killer after his ass.

He'd just come from Svea's, where he'd had to explain what had happened the day before in extensive detail before he'd been allowed to leave. He'd missed all his morning classes, as Ashawyn hadn't had enough power to transport them back to Shikaan until lunchtime. Now the only class he had was Necromancy, but he had no intention of going to that when his natural magic was so depleted. It was just stupid to tempt fate.

When he finally arrived at his door, body parts intact, he let out a quiet sigh of relief and reached to turn the knob. Only to realize it was locked. Have you ever kept turning the knob, knowing it was futile, but hoping to Merlin that it was just stuck? That was his mindset at that moment. If he was lucky, maybe this was all just a part of some poison-induced hallucination. Feeling ridiculous and embarrassed, he tried knocking. Not that anyone would be there to answer it.

The door swung open, and Tara stood on the other side of it with a very odd expression on her face.

"Thank Merlin," Cyrus muttered under his breath, pushing past Tara and into the room, for once glad that one of his friends had camped out in his room again. With a grunt, he dropped the tent bag onto the floor with a _smack_ and collapsed irritably onto his bed, planning to sleep.

"Where were you this morning? And… why are you knocking on your own door?" she asked, leaning against the closed door and crossing her arms over her chest. What was she, his deranged older sister? From the way her homework covered his small table, she'd been here for quite a while. What was it with his friends camping out in his rooms?

"Why are you in my rooms again?" he parried, not really in the mood.

"Because getting a hold of you on your magi-com is nearly impossible most of the time. Sometimes I think you turn it off just to irritate me."

"Whatever," he grumbled, turning over on the bed so he couldn't see her anymore.

"So? Where were you? Why the hell are you knocking? Did you decide to… _extend_ your weekend with the boy wonder? Is he really that good of a fuck? Or are you still not having sex with-"

"Tara!" Cyrus sputtered out, blushing as he propped himself up on his arms to glare at her. She just grinned at him, flashing fang.

"So? Is he a good lay? Or were you just skipping classes for the hell of it?"

Cyrus cleared his throat and looked away. "It's none of your business."

Her eyes widened, as did her grin. "You diiid~! So, how was it? He any good? I hear fae are quite practiced in the sexual arts by the time they hit adulthood, but I've never tried that flavor myself before. So? He any good?"

The human glared. "None of your damned business."

She let out a mock-sigh and shrugged her shoulders. "You do realize I can smell the arousal comin' off you, right? You toootally got yourself fu-"

"STOP!"

"-into the mattress and-"

"ALRIGHT! Enough! Yes we had sex! Yes it was great! Now can we stop talking about it?!"

Tara just smirked smugly, buffing her nails on her shirt. "Sure. Where the heck were you? Getting fu-"

"My illness decided to show its ugly face this weekend," he interrupted quickly, knowing where this was going. "I would have apparated here earlier but I can't even conjure a ball of light right now," he grumbled.

"What?! And you're not in the infirmary?"

Cyrus sighed. "Svea kicked me out. Said that I'd already gotten over most of my physical symptoms. Aside from a headache and the occasional bought of nausea, I'm 'fine'. Just magicless for almost a week."

His poor chair groaned as Tara threw herself onto it. "Well, fuck. You're going to have to make sure you don't wander around Shikaan without either me or Xanthir with you, then."

Cyrus blinked. "What?"

"Well, if it gets out, you're going to be a walking target, and with the rumors of Troy Guylan gunning for you…"

"Who?"

Tara shook her head with sigh. "You are so bad with names and politics it astounds me. Troy Guylan. Nicknamed Top Gun by his peers for the way he fights with modified muggle guns. He's the most influential and powerful human in the student body. This is his fifth year here at Shikaan, though rumor has it he's going to apprentice to Welkins for a sixth year here. He's climbed over bodies to get to the top, and he's not afraid to kill to keep his position, though normally he only does so when it's necessary. People have been whispering about you, the new first year that skipped a year in Runes class and has more magic than anyone our age has the right to have."

Cyrus pulled himself into a sitting position in sheer disbelief. "What? He's kicking up a fuss _now_ after I've been here for five and a half months?"

Tara shrugged. "Don't get all pissy at me. _I_ know you could care less about challenging his position to obtain a little social standing yourself, but the rumors say you're going to. The most likely scenario is that people want to see what would happen if you two went up against each other, and spread the rumors to that end. From what the grapevine says, he's going to challenge you sometime this week if you don't do it first."

Cyrus's jaw fell open. "I have no intention of challenging anyone!"

She shook her head. "You may not choose to challenge other people, Cyrus, but if Top Gun comes looking for a fight, you're going to have to step up or get stepped_ on_."

The human scowled. "Then I'm not leaving my room this week."

Tara burst into laughter. "Like that's going to work! Maybe for a few days, but eventually people are going to figure out where you're hiding."

"Maybe I should just leave Shikaan until my magic's restored, then."

Tara's chuckles cut out quickly, and she shot him a look. "You can't just ditch school for a week without a good reason, idiot. Not only will you fall behind, but no teacher likes a skipper. Sure, take today and tomorrow off, but go to class on Wednesday."

Cyrus grunted and collapsed back onto his bed. Maybe he could go Wednesday. His magic would be partly recovered then, even if he wouldn't be able to control it worth shit. But what about the necromancer trying to kill him? Hiding in his room wouldn't stop the bastard from coming after him again. "Hey Tara?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Could you take me to Gemini Square later tonight to pick up my new armor?"

"Sure. I'll come by at seven."

"Thanks."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she left his room with a quiet rustle of clothing.

Closing his eyes, Cyrus fell into a light doze, trying to ignore the real world for just a bit longer.

_oOo_

Weapons and Battle went pretty well that Tuesday morning, but left him absolutely exhausted as he headed to Healing. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Svea again so soon, but he couldn't exactly skip. They had a rather large anatomy test.

Thank Merlin it hadn't been a practical, though.

Walking into the class, Cyrus groaned as he saw that the class bitch was in one of her moods again. It never ceased to amaze him how two-faced she could be once you caught her outside of Svea's classroom. She probably had a crush on the elf or something, because there she was – yet again – helping the elf by organizing the exam booklets (and peaking at the questions on the test).

And it wasn't even that she was unjustifiably full of herself. She was probably going to be one of the best healers in the world once she went off to Healer's School, but that didn't change the fact that her bedside manner was worse than Snape's.

"Please take your seats quickly," Svea called out to the students still chatting by the door, "as the test will begin shortly."

The stragglers' conversation dwindled as they obeyed the elf's order. Cyrus absent-mindedly checked that his click pencil was still working. There were some things he loved about the muggle world, and click pencils were one of them.

Svea started distributing the tests with the help of Erin, the class prodigy, and Cyrus grimaced as he caught sight of the first question. He should have studied more for this test. Problem was, Cyrus was way more into the practical aspect of all of his classes. Memorizing the names of all the bones in the body wasn't something that particularly interested him, though he'd done it like everyone else in the first week of Svea's classes.

And now he was checking to make sure no one had forgotten these things. Great. Clicking his pencil, Cyrus prepared himself for the most hellacious Healing test to date.

The second part of the test was things he was more familiar with, thankfully. Like how does one heal the break in a bone on the microscopic level so you couldn't even tell there had been an injury. It was one thing haphazardly casting a healing spell on a bone and letting the magic figure out the particulars, and another entirely actually doing it all manually. Of course, the reason why there _were_ healers was because magic spells couldn't do everything. For example, it was impossible to make a spell that could remove all the poison in your body because there were too many steps and particulars depending on each person.

The last two questions on the test were a surprise, however.

_Bonus question 1: If you were to find yourself slowly decomposing after an inferius infected you, explain how you would logically deal with this situation you are unfamiliar with. In detail._

_Bonus question 2: If you were treating a disease with which you were unfamiliar, what would you do?_

Cyrus answered the first question easily enough, having already run into that particular problem. The second question gave him some pause, however. They'd been delving into the way viruses and diseases behaved in the body lately, but they'd never approached it from the treatment or research standpoint. Svea was more focused on them being able to identify and memorize details, and, in his words, '_Learn when a problem is above your intelligence and consult a trained professional._'

Knowing he didn't have much time left until class ended, Cyrus copped out on the last question.

_I'd find someone smarter than me._

Leaning back in his chair, he let out a sigh and checked over some of his answers, brain now about as dead as his body. He hated tests. He'd rather heal a _stomach_ wound than write one. Standing up to hand in the paper, he left the class and wondered what to do while he skipped DATD and Wandless Magic. There was no point in going to the classes if he couldn't cast magic, and he'd rather not draw attention to himself by looking like an idiot when a simple levitation charm blew up in his face.

Heading back to his room, his thoughts drifted to his weekend with Ashawyn. He hadn't really had time to let it sink in. He'd… had sex two days ago. With a man. A very hot man, but still… And the circumstances hadn't exactly been what he'd wanted. Who besides Cyrus found themselves with some crazy-ass illness that nearly knocked them into a magical coma and turned them into a ragingly horny… Arg! These things always happened to him. No bloody rest for Harry bloody Po-

Walking around a corner, he smacked face-first into someone. Falling back and landing on his ass after bouncing off the wall of steel, he grimaced and opened his mouth to apologize.

Rivehn was standing above him with an amused expression on his face. When a hand extended to help him up, Cyrus didn't know what to do with it at first before his brain kicked back into gear. Swallowing nervously, he accepted the proffered hand and felt his breath whoosh out of him when he was easily pulled to his feet.

Rivehn's hand was… surprisingly warm. He couldn't help but feel a slight wave of disappointment when it released his own.

"You should be more careful, Mr. Obsidian. Not all teachers at this institution take well to being walked into," Rivehn said in a low murmur, lips quirked upwards slightly in amusement.

"Uh…" Cyrus's brain stumbled for a response. "Er, sorry. Didn't mean to… walk into you. I just have some stuff on my mind…"

Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Do you not have a class this period?"

"Um, well…"

The vampire watched him for a long pause, making him bite his lip nervously. "I see. Svea did mention that you… had a relapse. So you have decided to forego your magic classes."

"Uh, yeah, actually."

Rivehn nodded. "Very well. I will see you in tomorrow's class," the vampire intoned, giving Cyrus a look that communicated that the human had _better_ be in his class tomorrow.

"Yes…" Cyrus watched the vampire walk away, mind in a whirlwind of thoughts. When his eyes had the audacity to slide downward, he checked himself and turned back around. Why the hell did he have to find one of his teacher's attractive? He'd always made fun of those girls that had obsessed over Lockhart, and yet here he was, flustered after running into the vampire in a hallway.

Berating himself, he made his way back to his rooms. If he wasn't going to practice any magic today, he might as well stop moping and get something else done instead. Pulling out his magi-com, he started typing a text to Soterios.

_oOo_

He ended up studying some of the rarer runes texts he'd gotten his hands on recently while waiting for Soterios to get out of her last class of the day. A text to Tara a few hours ago had ensured that yes, she was willing to 'babysit' him while he went to the library to learn more runes Transfiguration, and now he was just waiting for her to show up so they could go.

And of course, she couldn't make an entrance like a normal person.

"BOO!"

Cyrus jumped and knocked the small table over in his surprise, eliciting a sadistic laugh from Tara.

"Gotcha! Now, you got everythin' you need? Hurry up. I've got a big project I gotta get finished, like, ASAP. Quick!"

Cyrus scowled at her and gathered his books together. "I'm going, I'm going. Chill." Stuffing the last book in his bag, he let out a yelp when Tara just grabbed him and dragged him into the shadow beside his bookcase.

When they fell out of the shadow, Cyrus nearly landed on his face but was saved from that fate by Tara, who literally started dragging him over to a table in the corner that was almost completely covered in books, papers, and scrolls. Cyrus caught sight of Soterios and waved to her before he was yanked behind an obstructing bookcase by Tara.

She grabbed him by the back of his neck and sat him down in one of the chairs near the edge of the table that wasn't covered with shit. "Sit. Stay," she ordered, going over to her seat and starting to write furiously. Cyrus stared at her for a moment, blankly, before turning to the empty seat across from him.

"Obsidian?"

Soterios's voice came from the side, so he turned his head to the left and smiled at her in greeting. "Hey Soterios. Sorry about… that. Did you already have a table picked out?"

She shrugged. "It's no problem, really," she said, placing her pile of books quietly down on the table and glancing at Tara.

Cyrus coughed. "_Tara_. This is my tutor, Soterios."

His friend glanced up from her books, an annoyed look on her face. An annoyed look that quickly melted and was replaced by an odd look that Cyrus couldn't quite label.

"Hello. Tara of Bast," she said succinctly, but not rudely, and from the intensity in which she was watching Soterios, it seemed like she was looking for something…

His tutor just blinked, completely unfazed. "Good afternoon. Symphennia Soterios of Akkad."

Tara's eyes narrowed. "Akkad?"

Soterios looked annoyed. "Yes, that is my clan. I hope that won't be a problem for you, Bast." Her voice belied her face, however, and showed no disrespect whatsoever, just polite indifference.

Tara tilted her head to the side, examining Soterios with sharp eyes. "Well, with recent events I thought _you_ might be the one having a problem with _me_."

His tutor's face relaxed. "No, I do not. I happen to think Dalesh deserved a worse fate than he suffered."

A slow, pleased smirk spread across Tara's lips. "Oh really? What _should_ he have suffered?"

Soterios blinked languidly, face expressionless. "Things I dare not utter in such a public place."

Tara broke into laughter that she quickly stifled due to their environment. "Then you and me aren't gonna have a problem," she said with a grin. "I'm crazy busy today, but how's about you and I go to Shelby's Blood Bath sometime?"

Soterios blinked slowly and tilted her head slightly to one side. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Tara grinned. "Good time, date, what's the difference?"

Soterios examined her for a few more moments before inclining her head. "Very well. I accept."

Tara's grin widened just the slightest bit. "Great. I'll get your number off Cyrus and text you later tonight."

The human looked back and forth between the two, flabbergasted as they turned back to their work without another word or glance.

"What would you like to cover tonight, Obsidian?" Soterios asked professionally, pulling out her books and some notes.

Cyrus blinked. "Uh… how about whatever it is Kyrtrij's doing to try to disprove Balt. What's with that, exactly?"

Soterios smiled. "Kyrtrij was a student of Balt's around fifty years ago. Since she left Balt's tutelage, she's been doing her utmost to disprove every one of his theories, and she's actually succeeded with many of them. Well, it's a little more complicated than that. You see, it's been arguable that magic is sentient, and depending on the desire and beliefs of the user, you can achieve many things. Kyrtrij's disbelief was so strong that she actually broke some of Balt's rules if you are familiar with the theory that drives Transfiguration. It's interesting, because if you cast a Kyrtrij spell and then a Balt spell, both work. However, if you try to put them together, they're so fundamentally different that they cause very… odd mistakes. And sometimes explosions."

Cyrus's eyes widened.

"You could say their theories do well to reflect their own personal difficulties with one another, which is only proof of the amazing things magic is capable of if you believe, with absolute certainty, that you are right…"

Soterios continued on a similar tangent for quite some time before asking him if he had any specific questions or problems that she could help him with. He pulled out some of his old homework that Rivehn had marked ages ago and went through the mistakes he'd made with her. Some of them, he realized what he was doing wrong right away, but others it took Soterios many different explanations and diagrams on scrap paper before he began to understand.

Of course, like many things, once they got into it the time passed even faster than they realized, until Tara was reminding them that dinner was almost over and they'd have to leave soon if they wanted anything to eat. Hastily, Cyrus paid Soterios for the two hours she'd spent helping him before quickly packing up his things. Tara was far less rushed than him, as she'd already started packing away her books, papers, and scrolls some time ago. Apparently she'd finished whatever project she was freaking out about, because she'd spent the last ten minutes Soterios had been there staring at the other vampire.

"You're so slow, Cyrus," she prodded with a smirk, shrinking her bag and slipping it into her pocket. "At this rate there'll only be leftovers."

Cyrus glared at her. "I'm coming. Chill." Shrinking his own bag, he put it in his pocket too and followed the chipper, bouncy vampire out of the library. Was Tara really in that good of a mood after getting a date? It wasn't like she knew Soterios all that well.

They were walking past a door that led to one of the courtyards when Tara froze and slammed a hand on Cyrus's shoulder, holding him in place. Freaked out, he glanced around them to try to see what it was she was sensing, but couldn't find it. Just as he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, Tara was yanking him forward and flinging him behind her as she turned around to look behind them. Her massive, rune-covered sword appeared out of nowhere and with a flash of silver, Cyrus heard a _swish_, _gurgle_, and _thunk_. When his brain finally absorbed enough of the vampire-quick motions, he saw a body on the ground with its arm cut off.

A body that was getting back up, slowly, as if – _he_ – was unaware of his arm being cut off. An arm that wasn't bleeding.

Cyrus's eyes widened and he cursed viciously under his breath. "Tara, it's a zombie! You're going to have to burn it!"

But Tara was already moving, having obviously figured it out before Cyrus. Her sword lit on fire with a _whoosh_, and three flashes of lightning-quick movement later, the zombie had been reduced to a burning blob of goo on Shikaan's black marble floors.

Tara covered her nose with one hand, grimacing. "Stay focused, Cyrus. The smell of burning flesh is fucking up my nose. I can't tell if there are any more of them."

Nervously, Cyrus pulled out one of his daggers, wishing he had a sword like Tara did. Unfortunately, they weren't starting weapons for a while yet in Weapons and Battle class. If his magic wasn't so fucked up, he could have sensed the zombies easily, but as it was… it would be incredibly stupid to try to use any death magic when he didn't have his natural magic acting as a buffer between his continued life and a very pathetic death.

Tara moved faster than his eyes could see, and the next thing he knew there was another burning corpse on the ground. Resisting the urge to cover his nose, he tried to figure out where they were coming from. The most obvious location had been the way outside, but the door hadn't opened once. So where were they _coming_ from?

Something grabbed him from behind, and Cyrus saw Tara's eyes widen just as a set of teeth sank into his neck. _Fuck_. Reacting instinctively to the threat, his death magic bubbled to the surface and _seized_ the zombie behind him. The sheer power of it overrode the necromancer's tenuous control, and then it was _Cyrus's _zombie. Snatching that string of power that was slipping away, having been cut, he followed it back to its source and tried to locate the necromancer.

His connection to the power was cut as the necromancer's power surged chaotically for a moment before disappearing entirely. Cursing under his breath, he felt around for any other zombies in the area and commanded them to come into the light.

They were _shrunken_, on the floor, hiding behind one of the many statues riddling Shikaan hallways. Cyrus watched in a strange haze as Tara lit them all on fire with her sword. He felt… odd. Like… like his skin was too tight. But… he was burning up inside. His mind jerked to a stop for a moment before he remembered that he had been bitten by a zombie.

And Tara was right in front of him, shaking him. But her eyes were gray. How odd. He blinked slowly, frowning, trying to focus.

A hand grabbed him, and next he knew was darkness and a swimming sensation before light exploded in front of his eyes again. Except, everything was in black and white. He saw Svea coming towards him, and blinked slowly as a foreign power began to seep into his skin. His mind shuddered for a moment, and magic tried to deny the power entrance, but then his reasoning kicked in. This was Svea. A Healer.

The burning in his neck began to fade, and slowly color splashed across his vision again. Tara's eyes were red, Svea was dressed in muted greens, and…

The room swam, and Cyrus put his hands out on the bed he – _When had he sat down? _– was sitting on, trying to find balance. Except his hands encountered a sold reality, and the room was still spinning. Closing his eyes, he focused on another sense instead.

"-us right now! We need you to focus, Cyrus. Hello? Anybody in there!"

Cyrus tilted his head to one side. Tara.

"Obsidian. You need to force your death magic back into your core. I have healed the inferius bite that was infecting your mind, but with your natural magic levels so low, this is incredibly dangerous. Please cease using your death magic _immediately._"

Cyrus frowned. He was using his death magic? Turning his attention inward, he noticed his death magic had indeed filled his channels and forced his little-recovered magic back to its core.

Shit.

Taking a hold of the energy running happily through his channels, he tried to force it back down, back under his core where it wouldn't cause any problems.

But it refused to go. It wasn't only refusing, it was beginning to buck under his control. Cussing under his breath, he let it go and watched warily as the beast curled and churned unhappily through his channels.

He'd heard horror stories about necromancer's whose death magic went out of their control and slowly melted them from the inside, or turned them into zombies, or made them explode in a spray of blood, gore, and death that created more zombies that spread and killed people which created more zombies and-

A hand struck him across the cheek, and Cyrus opened his eyes and blinked blearily to see Tara crouching in front of him, a fearful glint to her eyes but lips pursed and brows furrowed stubbornly.

"Snap out of whatever shit's going through your head, Cyrus, because it's not helping! Now. You have to get your death magic under control, or do something to get rid of it, because Svea can't get a hold of Yankovich right now."

The human blinked and licked his dry lips. "'Kay," he croaked, trying to think of all the safety measures Yankovich had ever drilled into their heads during class. He could probably contain an explosion with a shitload of salt- no, the situation wasn't that far gone yet. Let's see… overload of death magic… usually recommended that the necromancer channels the death magic into something else, whether it be a large raising – _no that wasn't a good idea_ – or the earth itself –_ channeling into the earth without the necessary understanding and connection with it was often disastrous –_ or into a physical ob… ject… His eyes widened. The Linmeyelle!

Grabbing the bag attached to his waist, he quickly opened it and stuck his arm inside, searching for a cool, round stone. He bit his lip nervously as he felt the death magic buckle under his skin again, scratching painfully at his channels in an attempt to get out. Just when he was beginning to despair, his fingers encountered cold smoothness, and he yanked the rock out of the bottomless bag and started channeling the death magic into it.

Thankfully, energy wasn't smart enough to realize when it was trading one cage for another, because it happily moved through the channels he'd opened in his hand, escaping his body. He kept channeling into the Linmeyelle until his death magic was equal to that of his natural magic (that is to say, nearly non-existent), and only then did he finally stop and relax his grip on the black stone.

That was close. His insides still itched from where the death magic had been clawing at him.

"Got everything under control now?" Tara asked cautiously, staring at him like he was going to explode at any second.

Which had been true a minute ago.

"Yeah," Cyrus croaked, cradling the Linmeyelle in his hand and trying not to think of all the things that could have gonewrong – _oh so wrong_.

"Well done, Mr. Obsidian," Svea said, calm as he'd ever been. He'd never panicked, Cyrus realized now that he was actually in the right state of mind again. Yes, he'd been persistent and concerned, but he'd been calm. The human swallowed. Maybe he had been ready to kill Cyrus and let the magic bleed into death along with his soul if necessary.

Actually, that was something he didn't want to think about again.

"Thanks for your help," he said to Svea. Or at least, he tried to, but his throat croaked, so he had to clear it and try again.

The elf inclined his head and went back to what appeared to be another patient with… her… okay, that was nasty. He could see why she'd gone to Svea instead of trying to fix it herself.

Tara had her arms crossed over her chest. "I run into more life and death situations just living in proximity to you, I hope you realize. If I suffer Death-By-Cyrus one of these days, I'm going to come back from the dead and haunt you for eternity."

Cyrus grimaced. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes and let out an explosive sigh. "'Sorry', he says. I swear, there ain't another person like you in this school, human or other." She snorted and laughed.

Cyrus frowned. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

She grinned. "The fact that you need to ask that just proves my point, y'know."

The human frowned and got off the bed to follow her out of the healing ward. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

Tara just laughed.

_oOo_

When they got back to Cyrus's rooms, Ashawyn was sitting on his bed waiting for him. Tara didn't even enter the room, telling Cyrus to phone her if he needed anything before shutting the door in his face and leaving him to his doom.

Hesitantly, the human turned around to look at Ashawyn. The fae had been… taciturn the morning after they had sex. He wasn't sure if it was because he was bad, his illness had sucked the magic out of the ice fae, or something else, so he had basically pushed it out of his mind until he was forced to deal with it.

Like now.

"We need to talk."

Ah fuck. Cyrus coughed and went to his kitchen to get himself a glass of water. "What about?" he asked after a moment, trying to sound like he didn't know why Ashawyn was there, and he didn't really, but yeah.

"About this weekend."

Cyrus swallowed the water and stared stubbornly out his kitchen window. "Yeah?"

"You've been avoiding me. What's the problem? You didn't say you were contagious, so why are you avoiding me like the plague? I've sent you half a dozen text messages."

"Contag- no! No, I'm not contagious or anything."

"Then what's the problem? You didn't have a good time? Are you… regretting it now that you're thinking with your head again?"

Cyrus swallowed another gulp of water. "No, I'm not regretting it. I just… thought you might be. After I… ate your magic and everything. I mean, that's not exactly something that normally happens when you… have sex." He could feel a blush warm his cheeks.

A chuckle sounded from right behind him, and Cyrus turned around in surprise to see Ashawyn not two feet from him. "I'm sorry abou-"

Ashawyn shut him up with a kiss. When that cool tongue ran over his lips, he opened his mouth to allow entrance, sighing into it and wondering if it was his last. Sadly, after less than a minute, it was over and Ashawyn pulled away with a small smile. "Don't worry about that." When Cyrus stared up at him, flushed, the fae licked his lips and looked down. "You don't even realize how sexy you are…" The fae sighed. "I wish I could fuck you into the mattress right now," he said, bringing a hot flush of embarrassment to Cyrus's lips, "but I'm kind of here for two reasons, and I have to leave soon."

The human frowned as Ashawyn pulled away and leaned against the doorframe into the kitchen. "Yeah? What's the other reason?"

Ashawyn smiled sheepishly. "Well, see, there's this project that I'm working on for my apprenticeship to Mikhail, and I thought I had everything planned out nicely, but when I went to him to double check he told me flatly that there is no way the necromancer I picked to help me power the project was powerful enough. And you're the only necromancer besides Shaena that I know can do it. Will you help me?" he asked, icy blue eyes pleading.

Cyrus frowned. "What kind of project?"

"Well, it's to prove to Mikhail that I can work with other necromancers as the head of the raising instead of a passive channeler. It's one of the many things I have to do before Mikhail will approve me to apply for my Adept."

"What's an Adept?"

"The level before your mastery. I _could_ apply for a Journeyman level, but that doesn't really mean anything if you try to apply for a job or get work as a necromancer. Journeymen generally have quite spotty training, so it's not a very good assessment of your skills." When Cyrus was hesitant, he pouted out his lower lip and turned from kissable from downright fuckable. "Please?" he asked.

The human rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll do it."

Ashawyn grinned and swooped him into a kiss, plundering his mouth for a long, sensual minute before pulling away. "Great," he panted against Cyrus's lips, eyes sparkling with pleasure. "I'll pick you up for dinner this Friday?"

Cyrus forced his brain to work again. "Uh, yeah. Sure. When's this project anyway?"

"It's not for another three weeks. And it's on the weekend, so you won't miss any school."

"Alright then…"

"Great! I'll see you later." He gave Cyrus another short kiss before pulling away and vanishing in a burst of frost, leaving the human in his half-hard state. Damnit. He was going to need a cold shower.

_oOo_

Cyrus never did figure out who had tried to kill him that week. Even after Tara and he returned to the scene of the crime, all they had discovered is that someone cared enough to make sure all the evidence of the incident had disappeared. Tara had been pissed, and grumbled about wishing she had the money to hire a magic tracker to 'pin that fucker's ass down'. When Cyrus had asked her how much it would cost, she had just shook her head. Apparently, even though she knew that he had money, it was still ridiculously expensive, and it might not even work with all the ambient magical energy floating around Shikaan muddying the trail.

So Cyrus had shoved it into the back of his mind, along with the other assassination attempt during the survival training weekend. He knew it was a necromancer now, at least. That was no coincidence. The question was, who would want to kill him? He'd gone through so much shit recently he couldn't remember if he'd insulted or angered anyone.

Well, besides Yankovich. But if _Yankovich_ wanted him dead he wouldn't even notice the guillotine.

And then there were other incidents like Tara's Trial that had got his face and name out there, which just depressed him.

He let out a sigh, packing up his Runes texts just like everyone else in the class. The period had just ended, and he was absolutely famished. Not to mention looking forward to the day being over. He only had Necromancy left to suffer through and then he was free for the weekend! Ashawyn was going to take him out for dinner that night, and then after that he got to finish all his homework and study for a Runes test.

Joy.

His magic was almost completely recovered, too. Thank Merlin. Tara and Xanthir had stuck to him like glue after the zombie attack in the hallway, but there hadn't been any more incidents for the rest of the week. For the past three days he'd been able to go to classes that didn't require the use of magic, but he'd been skipping everything else. It was only today that he'd felt comfortable enough with his magic to go to them all again. Of course, he was going to be _extra_ careful in Necromancy. He'd learned his lesson from Tuesday and now kept his Linmeyelle in its own bag on his utility belt, in case he needed to get his hands on it quickly.

He loved being able to cast most of the weaker spells in his repertoire again without them exploding spectacularly in his face. He finally felt somewhat _safe_ in his own skin – a pleasant change from how edgy he'd been feeling ever since his illness had fucked him up last weekend.

Of course, it was probably because of his increased comfort that the problem he'd almost forgotten about reared its ugly head not ten feet from Rivehn's classroom door. One minute Cyrus was carrying on a conversation with Xanthir about their homework for the weekend, and then the next thing he knew Xanthir had pulled him to the side and was growling angrily behind him. Cyrus swung his head around just in time to see a flash of yellow light go by, an inch from his face.

Xanthir's hand on his shoulder, the hand that had wrenched him out of the way of the incoming curse, squeezed slightly in reassurance as he came face to face with his attacker.

"You Cyrus Obsidian?" the guy drawled slowly, his voice deceptively light in timbre. Murky green eyes watched him carefully. Besides this one stunning feature, there was nothing particularly interesting or unique about him… His _gear_ was another story. Three knives and two guns visible, and who knew what else hidden inside various compartments on the out- and inside of his clothes.

"Yeah. I'm Obsidian," he answered in a level voice, neither speaking loudly enough to challenge nor quietly enough to appear weak.

"I thought so. Do you know who I am?"

Cyrus blinked. "I've seen you around before. Don't know your name, though."

A murmur, mixed with a few chuckles, passed through the crowd that was beginning to gather in the hallway.

Two brown eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really. You don't know who I am? And yet _apparently_ you were going to challenge me to a fight to measure skills."

Cyrus frowned. "I have no intention of challenging anyone."

"Mhmm." The guy didn't sound convinced. "Of course you don't. But see, I have a reputation as Top Gun. I am _the_ most powerful human student here, and I intend for it to stay that way. You understand me?" Troy Guylan, nicknamed Top Gun, took a few leisurely steps closer.

Cyrus glanced around at the crowd that was watching them expectantly. "I understand your position, yes."

Guylan stopped a few meters away, his thumbs hooked in his cargo pants in a relaxed manner, but Cyrus could see the muscles jumping in his forearms and how one of his fingers would caress the sheath of the blade at his waist. "Do you, now. I don't think you do. See, someone starts doubting my capabilities, I set them straight. When _people_ start questioning me, I set the other guy straight, you got me?" When Cyrus just stared at him quietly, Guylan's lips bared in a mockery of a grin. "You're that other guy. How's about you and me settle this outside, hm? No reason to get Rivehn breathing down our necks for causing a ruckus outside his classroom."

Cyrus glanced to the side and saw that the vampire was indeed leaning in the doorway, a vaguely bored expression on his face. "How thoughtful of you," Rivehn drawled, voice silky and deadly.

"Come on, freshman. Let's go to the fields outside."

Cyrus didn't want to battle Guylan, but he knew that if he turned him down at that moment everyone would either think that he was a chicken shit, weak, or both. "Right. Lead the way," he said instead, strengthening the resolve inside him. He was outfitted in his full-body armor. Amazingly enough, it was thin enough to fit under all of his clothes, but still saved him from a butt load of bruising that morning in Weapons and Battle. He was impressed by the pervy old lady, to say the least. Even though her fetish for very _precise_ measurements… irked him.

The fields were empty when they went out, which meant that either the class that normally used them was off with Welkins on another obstacle course or there was no class at all that period. Not everyone had lunch at the same time, after all. That Guylan had the same lunch period as him spoke of his Potter Luck at its best.

"Since I challenged, you get to pick the weapon or weapons."

Cyrus licked his lips and pulled Xanthir to the side, putting up a silencing ward. It held, thank Merlin. "Do you know his strengths or weaknesses? Anything at all that might give me an advantage?"

Xanthir rubbed the back of his hair. "I dunno, Cy, that's sort of Tara's territory… but from what I _do_ know, he's great with guns and knives, and… Well, he's farther ahead of us in Weapons and Battle, so he's prob'ly trained in some other weapons and good at hand-to-hand. Um… can't think of anything else, sorry. Normally, magic'd be your best bet, but… are you, you know… alright?"

Cyrus grimaced. "Mostly. Things still blow up in my face when I least expect it, though. It's quite… irritating. I wish Tara had left me some words of wisdom when she came warning me about this on Monday. Fuck."

Xanthir grinned slightly, flashing teeth. Already his eyes were beginning to change from amber to bright gold. "I'm sure you'll do some damage. If he gets ya hard, though, I'll getcha to Svea real quick."

Cyrus fingered his death stick thoughtfully, pondering his options. Magical duel: he might win. However, if it was purely magical and his magic decided to take a hike, he'd be fucked. Second option: physical battle. But when he compared his own lithe body with big and broad bronco over there, he fell quite short, and he wasn't skilled enough to pick up the slack.

So, either way, he'd probably lose. The question was, did he want to lose with broken bones or looking like a fool?

Letting out a breath, he snapped his wands into his hands. Wand magic would be less likely to explode on him when his magic was still being fussy, and using wands would make Guylan underestimate him. He just hoped that using his death stick didn't cause any problems in the long run.

Making his decision, he met Guylan's eyes head on, mouth set in a determined, stubborn line. "I choose a duel. Magic and physical combat… no directly wielded weapons. No poisons or other shit," he said, walking forward.

Guylan seemed surprised for a second before he grinned. "Deal. I'm surprised you'd pick physical combat at all, considering how I've strengthened my body with rituals." When Cyrus's eyes widened, he smirked. "Ah, you didn't know that, did you. Too late. You lose upon forfeit, loss of consciousness, death… you get the drift. Ready?" Cyrus slipped into a defensive position, even more wary than he was before. "Alright. You with the orange hair! Count down from three."

There was a pause, but Cyrus didn't take his eyes of Guylan. Eventually, Xanthir started the countdown. "Three… two… one… go!"

Unlike ten minutes prior, Cyrus didn't make the same mistake twice. As soon as Xanthir had started counting down, he had extended his magical senses and felt the spell ready to come in his direction. He dodged it with a smooth motion, sending his own curse flying in response as he tried to formulate a plan. He'd noticed an improvement in his magical sensitivity after recovering from his illness, and he wasn't sure if it was because the illness had something to do with it or because he had only noticed after not having his magic for nearly a week. Either way, it was proving to be invaluable in this duel, as Guylan proved his experience as a senior student of Shikaan and used many dirty tactics and strategies to try to land a spell on Cyrus.

But Cyrus was no pushover. While he couldn't use his full reservoir of magic at that point, he could still pop off rather powerful and normally tiring spells faster than the average wizard. Dodging another curse, he started analyzing his opponent as they were taught to in class. From the look of things, Guylan was probably a heavy hitter rather than a stealth type, which evened the odds.

Because Cyrus was a _heavier_ hitter.

Pushing the largest amount of magic he felt comfortable with into his wands, he cast simultaneous explosive hexes, the phoenix wand aiming slightly to Guylan's left, while the death stick aimed at the ground where Guylan would be _moving_ to.

Thankfully, he had calculated the trajectory right. The two spells crossed paths, looking like one spell with the phoenix hex leading the way, but just as Guylan dodged to the side to avoid it… the second one crashed into the ground at his feet and sent him flying backwards.

Unfortunately, he hadn't noticed Guylan's own spell, which shot out of the dust cloud and clipped him on the arm. Swearing under his breath, he tried to figure out what the curse was to no use. Not liking the way his left hand was slowly turning purple and swelling underneath his armor, he cast a bubble shield around himself with his right wand and closed his eyes, activating his rune sight.

Dismantling curses with rune sight was difficult and dangerous. If you didn't cut the right points of the spell at the exact same time, the curse could go rogue and complete half of its function, which usually resulted in something disgusting, deadly, or explosive. And not necessarily in that order.

Fortunately, he recognized the basic format of the curse even though he didn't have the time to read all of the runes to figure out what it was doing to him. Doing the mental 'snip' in three places simultaneously, he didn't bother waiting to watch it fall apart. Deactivating his rune sight, he opened his eyes to see Guylan was throwing quite a few nasty curses at his bubble shield. Thankfully, he hadn't used Avada Kedavra, the only spell it couldn't reflect. Either he wasn't that much of an asshole, he hadn't thought of it, or he didn't have the power and intent to cast it.

Cyrus didn't really care. He was just glad his left arm hadn't exploded like a rotten eggplant. Keeping the bubble shield up with his phoenix wand, he slipped the tip of his death stick past the barrier and started casting _reducto_ after _reducto_. For that particular offensive spell, one didn't need to move the wand, so it was quite easy for anyone with a shitload of magic to pop it off one after another with little strain.

Which is exactly what he did. Using his magic sensitivity to hone in on the other human, he kept sending volley after volley of the spell, hoping at least one would hit or they would tire his opponent out.

Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. The ground exploded out from under him, and he cursed loudly as his bubble shield was forced into the air and he lost balance and focus. The shield dissolved, but instead of staying there to get skewered, Cyrus apparated to his room for a second. Taking in a deep breath, he apparated back to where he'd just been, hoping the second delay would make Guylan think he had tried to get behind him.

And the human _had_ thought that, which let Cyrus get off a particularly dark curse he'd been meaning to cast on someone he was exceptionally pissed at.

It hit Guylan in the back, as he'd apparated silently as well as cast silently, and Cyrus grimaced at the sight of skin slowly turning inside out. It was quite… bloody.

"Bastard!" Guylan screamed, fumbling for a few painful-looking moments before he managed to counter the curse. What must have been extreme pain left the older human panting for breath as he glared angrily.

"That's what you get for fucking with Cyrus Obsidian, asswipe," a familiar voice called out.

Cyrus's head snapped around just as Guylan's did, and caught sight of Tara watching from the sidelines.

"Ah, _Bast_. So wonderful to see you again. I see you haven't gotten any taller," Guylan sneered, standing upright instead of hunched over in pain. Cyrus could still see the tell-tale shakes of his hands, though.

Tara's eyes narrowed. "Really. Going for digs on my height? Your skill with insults hasn't improved at all."

Guylan glared at her. "And your… personality hasn't gotten any better. Still having trouble replacing that girlfriend of yours?"

Cyrus grimaced as Tara's expression went glacial.

"Careful, Guylan," Tara intoned dangerously, "or you might find yourself missing what makes you a man in the morning."

Guylan frowned. "You touch my guns, Bast, and I don't care if you're a girl. I'll-"

"The fact that you weigh guns above your testicles or dick on the scale of masculinity really doesn't do much for your already… undersized reputation."

Some members of the audience snorted or burst into fits of laughter at that comment, and after a few moments of incomprehension from Guylan, his face turned red with rage. "You bitch!"

Tara shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes still held a murderous glint. "Just stating a fact, Guylan. It's not my fault you're on steroids."

At this, a couple people with familiarity with the muggle world started laughing while the majority just looked confused. Cyrus himself was grinning his ass off, using Guylan's distraction as a good opportunity to go invisible. The human didn't notice.

"What the fuck are steroids?" Guylan asked, blusteringly.

"Steroids are a muggle chemical that enhances muscular growth, basically, while shrinking your dick. In short, some people think that, due to your extensive self-modifications through rituals, your ittle 'bits' might have shrunk. Thus, not many girls wanting to fuck you. And for the record, I know for a fact that you haven't gotten laid in a good month, while _I_ certainly haven't had that problem. Guess that means I'm more 'monstrous' in bed than you are."

Guylan stared. "Are you saying you have a bigger dick than me?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "If I need to spell it out for you. YES."

Guylan was just about to retort when instead he spun around and aimed a kick at Cyrus's face. Nearly cursing aloud, he dodged the attack and cast an invisible, silent flaying curse just as another spell hit him and disrupted his stealth charms. Cursing out loud, he backpedalled as Guylan dismissed his flaying curse with a smirk and came running at him. The next thing Cyrus knew, Guylan was a foot from his face and looking far too pleased.

Reacting on instinct, since Guylan was already inside his guard, he cast a _reducto_ from the channels in his chest.

The point-blank explosion sent Cyrus flying backwards through the air as well, since Guylan had apparently had a shield up. Luckily, it sent him flying just far enough avoid a particularly nasty Dark spell Guylan was trying to curse him with. Apparently his Potter Luck was still working; he was unlucky enough to get his ass into this situation, but lucky enough to prevent it from getting burnt extra crispy.

Casting multiple smoke screen spells, he 'felt' for where Guylan was supposed to be and made his way closer, crouching low to the ground with silencing spells covering his boots. He got within two meters of the guy before a wind blew his smoke away and he had to cast. As it wasn't pointblank, Guylan got off another shield just in time. Before Cyrus could recover and put some distance between them, an arm shot out and smacked his arm before he could even flinch. His Phoenix wand went flying from his numb fingers, and he reached for it with his wandless magic instinctively.

_Boom_.

The concussive force of the blast sent him flying to the left, thankfully throwing him clear of the full on attack Guylan had been about to unleash and throwing the other human off at the same time. Rolling with the kinetic force, Cyrus cursed his magical issues and tried to find his wand, desperately hoping it had been thrown far enough from Guylan's attack that it hadn't been incinerated. He caught sight of it for a moment before a blasting hex had him spinning through the air again. When the fuck had Guylan had time to remove the flaying curse?!

Hitting the ground hard, he rolled for a few meters before coming to a stop. Feeling a sharp pain in his left arm, he swore under his breath and pushed himself to his knees with his right arm. His armor had taken most of the damage from the spell, since it was a physical spell and not something more abstract, but unfortunately it didn't stop his arm from hitting the ground wrong and cracking under the force of it.

Guylan was just standing there, watching him with a blank expression. Why hadn't he taken advantage of Cyrus's weakness and attacked? Did he want to prolong the agony or something? "You going to heal that arm of yours? I hear you're rather good with wandless magic, though that last explosion would say otherwise," he said, showing that he held Cyrus's phoenix wand in his left hand. "Unless it was planned. You completely had me fooled. Thought you were going for the wand."

_I _was_ going for the wand, you ass._ "Uh, thanks," he mumbled, cursing softly under his breath. He did _not_ want to try healing his arm and blow it off by accident. Grimacing, he snapped it back into place, setting it the best he could and sending healing energy into it.

"Well? I'm giving you time to heal it. Why don't you?"

Cyrus kept his expression carefully blank. "What can I say? I like pain." Was Guylan stupid? If he'd ever taken first year Healing he would know that healing a bone properly so it wouldn't break again like a twig took a good minute as well as a hell of a lot of concentration. Something Cyrus didn't have a lot of at that moment.

Now Guylan was frowning. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he called out mockingly. "If I'd known you were this pathetic, I wouldn't have bothered. I might as well snap your wand, for all the good it's doing you. You're a disgrace to wizardkind!"

Cyrus's vision turned red, magic roiling under his skin with his anger. He'd worked fucking _hard_ to get his hands on that phoenix feather, and if this stupid, irritating, goddamned _prick_ damaged it anyway he was going to find his body slowly decomposing from death magic poisoning. Fucker.

Reacting without thought, Cyrus disapparated and reappeared in front of Guylan. Before the upperclassman could react, he had channeled his magic through the hand he'd placed on the human's chest. The explosion sent Guylan flying back and the wand into the air. Moving as fast as his body would allow, he tried to snatch it only to be tackled. Body moving on autopilot, he twisted in midair to hit the ground on his back and roll with the motion, kicking his assailant over him. He got to his feet just in time to parry a series of attacks that were so fast he could barely react to them, let alone block them all with one hand. Pointing his death stick at Guylan's chest, he sent out a blast of pure magic that sent the human flying backwards. Finally. Some breathing space.

The smirk on Guylan's face was his only warning, and the next thing he knew a rope was wrapping itself around his neck. Choking as his air was cut off, he tried to cut if off with a dagger and couldn't get the angle right. Swearing, he lit the ropes on fire and ignored the way his skin seared. He could heal it later. Putting on a burst of speed he hadn't realized he was capable of, he ran backwards and sent multiple curses Guylan's way.

The other human was faster, catching up to him at close range and swiping his hand at Cyrus's neck. A hand that had grown _three-inch long nails_ since he'd last seen it. Cussing, he bent backwards, spine straining under the force of the movement, in order to avoid getting his throat ripped out.

That bastard! Turning his own body parts into weapons to get out of the wording of the duel… Before Cyrus could say anything, however, Guylan was flying at him again, landing a few punches that Cyrus could feel even through his armor. Unable to follow the speed of the attacks, he put his right hand in front of him and channeled a concussive force of magic.

The resulting explosion singed his hand and left his internal channels burning, making him grimace painfully. He needed his phoenix wand back. Muttering _accio_ under his breath, he was unprepared for the punch that landed on his face, cracked his jaw, and sent him flying to one side.

His phoenix wand landed itself in right hand, though, and his left was already flicking out the movements for a curse though, without his conscious thought. He'd had the shit beat out of him so many times in Weapons and Battle and during training sessions with Xanthir that a lot of things had become so instinctive he'd almost gravely wounded his opponents more than once. Of course, that was the danger of being a Shikaan student.

The spell finished, but no light came out of the end of his wand even as he felt the power of the spell leave it and hone in on Guylan's magical signature. Dark spells were interesting that way. One of the reasons why they were labeled dark was because of the necessary intent behind them.

This spell in particular required that you desire your enemy undeserving harm.

Guylan screamed like a girl as millions of flesh eating ants came into existence under his skin, slowly chewing away at the muscles and ligaments and nerves. It avoided the brain, as most Dark spells did, in order to make the victim suffer the longest.

Cyrus's victory was short-lived, however, when Guylan shouted the counter curse before collapsing to the ground in pain. The damage to his physical body was extensive, however. He'd likely need Svea to heal him.

But apparently Guylan was just as stubborn as Cyrus was, because he stood up despite the pain and glared at him with utmost hatred in his eyes.

It wasn't like _Cyrus_ had been the one who wanted this duel. Asshole.

And then his feet started glowing, and Cyrus frowned and looked down at the ground. His eyes widened at the array of… of… _something_ that was written all over the dirt. Why hadn't he seen it before?! He caught some runes in the design, but for the most part it seemed to be like something out of a bad muggle voodoo movie.

Guylan started chanting, and Cyrus tried to disapparate to no avail. Looking for the edge of the circle, he tried to get out of it, but soon encountered a wall of power that no amount of pounding would let him out of. Starting to panic, he let his magic escape his body and started slamming against the force shield.

It was too unfamiliar. He had no idea what this fucking spell was, and it wasn't responding to magical force at all. Activating his rune sight, he tried to find something to tear, but there was none.

_FUCK_.

He had no experience with this shit. What was he supposed to do?! What the fuck was it even?! What if it ripped his soul out of his body or sucked all the oxygen out of the circle or turned him to stone or-

Fear clawing its way past his pounding heart and up his throat, he grasped at his instincts, for _anything_ that he could do to-

His death magic surged up from under his core like a basilisk, slithering through his channels and expelling the magic already inside them outward in an explosion of power and colorful lights. Feeling that same kind of connection as he had when he'd raised the basilisk and felt all the dead rats in the entire castle, he focused on the weird spell at his feet and pointed his death magic at it, telling it to _'eat'_.

And it did. The basilisk of death magic sank into the ground with single-minded intensity, and Cyrus could hear high-pitched screaming on the wind as it consumed and killed the life in soil, the life in the grass, and lastly the life in the magic itself.

And then it tried to turn to other delicious things.

Reining it in with a stubborn grip, he was totally unprepared for the way it bucked and nearly threw him off entirely. Slipping his hand into one of the pouches on his belt, he pulled out the Linmeyelle and started forcing the death magic into it. It was stubborn, at first, but eventually bowed to his will. It probably helped that the stone was _designed_ to conduct death magic, and therefore attracted it like a magnet.

He let out a breath of relief when the power was drained back to manageable levels.

"OBSIDIAN!!"

And then grimaced and internally groaned at the familiar, infuriated voice of Yankovich. Just _great_. The last thing he needed. A moment later, a knee connected with his ribs and he gasped and bent over as the breath was sucked out of him and his ribs bruised. As he hadn't been prepared for the assault, he hadn't tensed his abdomen.

"What the FUCK were you doing, using death magic when you're fucking SICK! Are you an IMBECILE?! Are you TRYING to get me to kill you?!"

Cyrus forced himself upright and gasped, "No, sir,"

If it was possible, Yankovich got even angrier. The human didn't think he'd ever seen Yankovich this angry. Thankfully, when it appeared as though the demon was going to kick him again, a diminutive little man – _with red skin_ – put his leg in the way and spoke to Yankovich sternly in what Cyrus recognized as the demon language. Cautiously, he looked back and forth between the rapid-fire conversation, not even trying to pick anything up. Instead he watched their faces. Yankovich appeared to be getting even angrier, looking at the short man like he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. Finally, the conversation came to a pause, with Yankovich looking at the short man with an unreadable expression when the old guy got in the last word.

Yankovich said a few words in the demon language before barking out, "Obsidian! We're taking this little talk about your lack of sensibility to my office. Get up!"

Cyrus stared. What about the fight? "But-"

"Stop your whining. I'm in no condition to walk at this moment, but you don't see me bitching," the demon growled, grabbing the human by his shoulders. The expression that twisted his teacher's face for a moment almost seemed like a grimace, but before Cyrus could really get a good look it had been smoothed away into nothing. Yankovich looked at the little old red man expectantly, and the stranger put his hand on the demon's arm.

As they disappeared into shadow, he had a feeling he was up for a very long, painful lecture. Maybe he'd get bonus points for having a Linmeyelle.

_oOo_

Yankovich ignored Cyrus as soon as they arrived in favor of talking to the little old man. The human wasn't sure whether he was glad the demon had interrupted the duel before it could continue, or upset that he no longer had the chance to make a comeback and kick Guylan's ass. Not that he was sure he would have been able to beat the older, more experienced student anyway. He'd like to _think_ it could happen, but after that last freaky spell, he wasn't sure the battle would have turned in his favor. A small part of him wished that Guylan would continue the challenge another time, when he was at full strength, but the majority of his common sense was saying it was a bad idea.

Sitting on the demon's rather comfy couch, Cyrus watched the exchange between tall shadow demon and short little man. From what he could tell of their interactions, the little guy definitely had Yankovich's respect. He'd never seen the demon concede or surrender, or whatever it was he was doing to the little guy, because he couldn't understand a word coming out of their mouths.

He really needed to learn some Other Realm languages.

"Obsidian."

The human raised his head from where he'd been fiddling with the hem of his torn and bloodied shirt. Yankovich was looking at him wearily now, less angry, but still irked as hell. Cyrus could tell because of the way his tail twitched irritably behind him, and the way his eyes flashed intensely at him.

"Yes, sir?" he asked meekly, looking back and forth between his professor and the red guy with him.

"Explain to me why it is you were fighting with another student. Especially when you are not fully recovered from your illness," the demon bit out through gritted teeth, and Cyrus had the feeling the little man's presence had tempered Yankovich's anger.

"It's not like I _wanted_ to fight him, you know," Cyrus muttered.

"Really." Yankovich didn't look convinced in the least. "Then why the hell did you agree to it?"

Cyrus looked away. "He wouldn't have just let me walk away, and I didn't want to advertise to everyone that I'm only just recovering with someone out to kill me."

Yankovich's eyebrows rose. "I seriously doubt someone is trying to kill you, Obsidian."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "During survival training someone sabotaged a clean water source nearby me, set _zombies_ after me, and then later tried to blow poison into my cave! Just two days ago I was attacked again by a fu- bloody zombie _in the hallway!_ I think it's safe to say someone's trying to kill me! So thanks for broadcasting to the entire class that I'm-"

Before he even saw the demon move, Yankovich had slammed him into the wall behind the couch. Cyrus's head smarted with the impact. "Don't. You. _Dare_ take that tone with me," he said quietly, sapphire eyes drilling into Cyrus's own with an intensity that had all the hairs on his arms practically jumping off his skin.

He swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir," he choked out.

Yankovich held him there for a moment before letting go. The human slid down the wall and fell back onto the couch. "Good. Now, I have every right to be furious with you, Obsidian, and don't argue. You purposely let yourself fall into a situation where your death magic could go out of control and kill dozens of people, _after_ it already went out of control once this week. You need to be more responsible! You have the equivalent of a bomb sleeping inside you, and if you aren't careful, you're going to set it off and kill thousands of people! It is my job as Necromancy teacher at this school, and as a member of the Necromancer's Guild, to ensure that you are not a _danger_, do you understand?" The demon was utterly, deathly serious.

Cyrus swallowed nervously and looked down at his fingers in a mixture of fear and resentment. Right, because Yankovich had done sooo much to help him learn control. 'Make a fly dance,' his internal voice mocked him.

"How did you prevent yourself from self-destructing this time? And last time, for that matter."

Cyrus reached into his pocket and pulled out the black stone that he'd poured his magic into.

Both Yankovich and the little man's eyebrows rose. "Where the hell did you get a Linmeyelle?"

Cyrus stared stubbornly back at Yankovich. "Bought it."

"How do you even know they exist?" the demon asked incredulously. Cyrus wasn't sure whether he thought Cyrus couldn't afford it, or he thought Cyrus was just stupid.

"…Mikhail. He has some. He let me try draining some of my power into his and it helped my con-"

"You _what?_"

Cyrus blinked and couldn't stop his head from automatically recoiling in the face of Yankovich's ire. The intensity in those sapphire eyes was very… disconcerting. "Uh… I… drained some of my death magic into his Linmeyelle. Since it helped, I figured I'd buy one."

Yankovich and the little guy looked at each other and traded a few comments in demon language. Yankovich looked furious and the little man… was difficult to read.

Finally, after some snapped conversation, Yankovich turned back to Cyrus. He looked gravely serious. "Listen to me, Obsidian. Never. I mean _never_, give your power to anyone ever again unless you trust them with your life. Do you understand?"

Cyrus frowned. "What? Why?"

Yankovich's face was stone. "Giving your power away can be… dangerous. People can take advantage of it. Use it against you. Just… don't do it ever again, understand?"

Cyrus nodded slowly after a slight hesitation. "…Unless I trust them with my life."

"Yes." Yankovich crossed his arms over his chest and stared off to the side, his expression stormy yet unreadable. Why was the demon so… unnerved? Angry? "How has your training with the flies been going?"

Cyrus grimaced. "Not very well." When the demon just hummed thoughtfully, he couldn't help but get defensive. "I've been trying, honestly. I just… I try, and it doesn't work. And I keep trying, and it gets so _frustrating_."

The little man said something that brought a grin to his gnarly face and a scowl to Yankovich's. The demon snapped back, and the old man just let out a put-upon sigh and shook his head. After he spoke again, Yankovich snorted with a grin and said something back before turning back to Cyrus. "Well, I have good news for you. You are spending your study break studying with Gyrdrich, my former necromancy teacher." When the human's eyes bugged out in surprise, Yankovich's grin widened. "He has _graciously_ offered you his time and expertise, and if you fail to gain a modicum of control during that week of training, you will be spending your entire summer with him as well. And however long after that it takes you to get your death magic under control." Cyrus wasn't sure what to think when he saw the look of sadistic pleasure on Yankovich's face.

His worry must have shown on his face, for the little man finally spoke for the first time in English. "Expect not full control in few weeks. Or months. Is slow process, learning control. But you will learn. If you are good student. Method I try with you is run before walk."

Cyrus blinked in confusion. What did that mean? "You… you'll teach me how to control my death magic?"

The gnarled little man's head jerked down once in brisk acknowledgement.

Yankovich pulled him out of his shocked thoughts. "If Mikhail offers extra lessons, refuse. Gyrdrich is a far better teacher, and Mikhail… only ever looks after his own best interest. If he tries to pressure you into anything, come to me immediately."

Cyrus frowned, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. Had this reaming out really just turned into… he had a personal teacher now? _What?_ Did he have to pay or something? Offer his soul up as compensation? This was _Yankovich_, after all… "Uh… okay?"

Yankovich gave him an assessing look. "Good. I'll come get you some time next Friday evening. Probably after dinner…" He glanced at the little man who Cyrus now knew as Gyrdrich. "Make sure to pack food and a tent. He tends to like sleeping in the bush, and forgets that not all of us are fire demons and can warm ourselves up like- OW!"

Cyrus blinked as he watched Yankovich hop on one foot, gripping his shin and glaring at Gyrdrich. The little old man looked completely innocent, walking stick an inch to the right of where it had been a second ago. Cyrus couldn't stop his lips from twitching in amusement as he realized what had happened. Seeing the look Yankovich was sending his way, he wiped the smile off his face.

"Keep that Linmeyelle on you and don't get in any more fights until you're fully recovered, got it?" Yankovich barked, nursing his shin. "Go study or something," he muttered, waving his hand toward the door and looking quite irritable. Not wanting to get on the demon's bad side, the human quickly made his way to the door, ignoring the conversation that broke out behind him in demon language.

Closing the door behind him, he sighed. He had to survive another week at Shikaan before he could escape for a whole week. Though, escape probably wasn't the right word, considering he was now enlisted for extra necromancy training.

He wondered what the little old man would do differently than Yankovich as he headed back to his rooms.

_oOo_

Tara was waiting for him in his room when he returned. Apparently, according to _Guylan_, their fight wasn't over yet. As far as Cyrus was concerned, it was so over it was _Jurassic._ He had a date with his boyfriend that night, a Runes test next Friday, and a little hermit guy had conscripted him for a 'vacation' in the bush in only-gods-knew-where.

On top of that, he'd missed Necromancy, been told to avoid Mikhail (for what reason, he had no idea), and had promised aforementioned boyfriend that he would help him with a necromancy project that would inevitably lead to him being _around_ Mikhail.

It had been a fucked up week, and he was glad beyond words that it was over.

_-Toki Mirage-_

I'd like you all to know that I was going to put another sex scene in Chapter 23, but then I had two thoughts: 'I'm already giving them 20,000 words of smutfic, they don't need to get cavities.' and 'Wait a minute, last time I put smut in a chapter, I got half the amount of reviews I normally do in that first week…' So I cut it. I realize going to another site to read the sex is annoying, but there are people reading my story who don't like sex. Slashers and non-slashers alike.

And _technically_ you're not supposed to post sex on FFnet, as Rated M is the equivalent of R and not NC-17.

Thanks to everyone who took the couple of seconds to share your thoughts, good and bad. I love you all.

**R/Y SMUTFIC #2:** http:// toki-mirage. livejournal. com /13354. html


	24. Chapter TwentyFour: Tara's Pet

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty-Four:

_oOo_

Warnings: Oh you know, the usual. Mentions of gay sex. If you're still reading this story _after_ having read my epic warnings list, I really shouldn't need to be saying anything at all...

_oOo_

Cyrus rolled out of bed with a groan. Peering blearily through half-closed eyelids, he stumbled to the bathroom, only realizing that he wasn't in his dorm after he nearly walked into a wall. Turning around, he headed for the door before padding quietly down the hall. Ashawyn rented a bachelor's apartment in Sector 2, so all the rooms weren't connected like he was used to. Slipping into the small bathroom, he didn't bother to close it all the way as he relieved himself, staring blearily back at his reflection in the mirror.

He looked... well-fucked.

It wasn't an expression he was used to seeing on his face. Hell, if someone had asked him if he liked... taking it up the ass a year ago he would have knocked them down with a few well-placed hexes.

Yeah, the sex was… great. Mind blowing even. But… Well, maybe it was a fae thing. Or… Ashawyn just had that much experience. He certainly seemed comfortable with the whole thing. Like he'd done it before. A lot. Or maybe that was Cyrus reading into it too much. Guys had sex all the time, didn't they? It was a guy thing. If the sex was great, what was there to complain about, right?

Cleaning his mouth with a wandless charm, he finished his business and washed his hands in the small sink. This was the first time they'd come back to Ashawyn's place, and only the second time they'd had sex together. Last night they'd gone to a rather wild bar with strippers, lap-dancers, and some very obvious drug use. The fae had asked him if he did anything, but thankfully hadn't pushed the matter or offered that they try something when Cyrus had said no rather vehemently. Instead they'd done some drinking, making out, groping, grinding, and then Ashawyn had transported them back to his place and pounded Cyrus into the mattress.

His ass ached, so he focused healing magic into the bruised tissues while he washed his hands and dried them on the towel. Making his way back to the bedroom, his thoughts lingered on his and Ashawyn's rather new relationship. Well, at least, it was new to _him_ still.

Slipping back into the bed with Ashawyn, he rolled onto his side with his back to the fae and shifted, wondering whether it was a good idea to sleep more with all the homework he had to do. He felt… twitchy. When Ashawyn's arm slipped around his stomach and pulled him back into warm, toned, hard flesh, all he could think about was the crazy week he'd had, all the homework he had to do, and that little red guy.

Was it normal for him to be this distracted? For him to want to leave? As Ashawyn's hand caressed his stomach and began to trail lower, he couldn't stop the frown that furrowed his brow. Was it normal for him to not want to have sex again? He had no past experiences with relationships, and any dating advice he'd ever picked up had always been for straight relationships. Yes, Ashawyn took him out on dates and they enjoyed each other's company. Yes, the sex was great and Cyrus _felt _like he should be getting addicted to it, but he…

Wasn't.

It felt like there was something he wasn't getting. And having no past experiences to compare and contrast, he couldn't figure out the reason why he felt this nagging...

A pair of warm lips landed on his neck and gently began to tease at his sensitive skin. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm the chaotic feelings churning in his stomach. They hadn't fallen asleep until five in the morning, and Ashawyn wanted to go at it again already? Cyrus had too much homework this weekend to have sex _again_.

"You up for another round?" the fae murmured into his ear, and he could hear the smile in that smooth voice.

Cyrus bit his lip and glared down at his morning wood. It obviously wasn't agreeing with him about the homework. "I'd rather nap for a bit before I get started on the homework, actually." The hand on his stomach paused, and the body behind him tensed.

"What? You're thinking about homework? _Now?_"

The human craned his head around and tried to keep the scowl off his face. "Yes. I don't know how much homework you did or didn't have at the school you went to, but I have a lot of shit to do this weekend."

The look on Ashawyn's face was amusing, to say the least. "You… would rather do _homework_ than have _sex._"

Seeing that the fae was not on the same wavelength, Cyrus slipped out of the bed again and rubbed the grit from his eyes. Obviously he wasn't going to get his desired nap, so he might as well leave. There was no point in staying there any longer. "I have a shitload to finish, and right now that puts it higher on my list of priorities."

Pulling on his boxers, he glanced at Ashawyn and saw the fae sitting up in bed, looking absolutely smoking hot with his pouty lips and lithe chest.

When the fae saw his tactics weren't working, he frowned and looked genuinely confused. "Why are you leaving so soon?"

"Because I have homework to do."

How many times was he going to have to repeat himself? Shaking his head slightly, he bent down to grab his pants and started pulling them on. Just as he was about to pull on his shirt, too, he found cool arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him back into a solid chest.

"Don't leave yet," the fae murmured in his ear, bending his head to nibble, lick, and kiss at Cyrus's neck.

The human twitched and started tapping his foot impatiently. "Ashawyn," he said more sharply, "I really have to go."

"Homework can't be that important. Not when you can…" the fae groped him through his pants with a pair of expert hands.

But Cyrus wasn't feeling it. Pulling out of the embrace, he jerked his shirt on and summoned his socks to him, feeling the inexplicable urge to leave. Walking out of the room to get his shoes, he tried to ignore the naked fae padding along behind him. Before he could get all the way to the door, though, a hand caught his arm and gently spun him around.

Ashawyn's face was a little more closed off, now, showing not only confusion but a little bit of annoyance. It was that 'why are you being such a difficult human' look that he got from time to time, whenever something happened that made Cyrus remember their cultural differences. For fae, sex was like... eating fruit, he supposed was a good analogy. And they ate a _lot_ of fruit, since they were vegetarians...

But Cyrus had a life. As it was he had so much homework he would have been praying the study break started sooner if it weren't for the fact that Yankovich had now promised him to a certain little red demon for that entire week. Which left him _just a_ _little_ _bit stressed._

"Are you mad at me or something?" the fae asked. "I don't see why you're turning down mind blowing sex with a _fae_ all weekend for-"

"I'm really busy this week," he snapped, tired of saying the same thing over and over again, "and I'm not going to have spring break off. I don't have the time to fuck you all weekend."

Ashawyn's lips twitched upwards, making him look annoyingly smug. "It would be me doing the fucking."

Cyrus snorted and walked away, going for the shoes. Before he could pick them up, however, cool hands spun him around and pushed him against the apartment door before a pair of lips landed on his mouth and kissed him. It fell flat, and he pushed the fae away.

Ashawyn didn't look sheepish in the slightest. "Had to try one last time," he said nonchalantly.

Cyrus didn't believe that innocent look for a minute. "Right." Not caring how close it would put his face to Ashawyn's stiff cock, he leaned down, grabbed his shoes, and disapparated.

_oOo_

No one was in his room when he showed up, and he was infinitely glad that that was the case. In his current mindset, he probably would have cursed the interloper regardless of identity or intentions. Was this what other people had to deal with in relationships? Probably. Maybe. Alright, he had no fucking clue, and that didn't really make him feel any better. Was it a fae thing or a guy thing?

Hermione might have known. Tara would probably look at him like he was crazy for refusing the sex. Xanthir... would ask that he not bring up gay sex because the werewolf had never asked _him_ about _straight sex_. And Yalmireth...

The demon was still off with a stick up his ass, doing only god knew what. Cyrus wasn't sure what the demon was _still_ pissed off about, but he certainly wasn't going to just bow down and ask for 'forgiveness'. As far as he was concerned, Yalmireth had been way out of line.

Well, that was what he remembered his opinion being. He couldn't quite remember exactly what they had fought about because of the crazy week... month... year... Eugh. Whatever. He knew that he was right and he was sticking with it – simple as that.

Feeling just a little bit dirty, he decided to take a shower and stripped off the clothes he'd put on just minutes prior. Tossing them along with his boots on the floor, he slipped into the marble shower stall and activated the water facets, setting the temperature to what he preferred. The warm water beat away a lot of his tension, and he ended up staying inside for a good half an hour before he forced his tired ass out of it. As he dried off his hair, he cast a tempus charm and winced at the time. Eleven. He'd only gotten around five hours of sleep that night, _after_ the crazy Friday he'd just had.

Shaking away the tension that was building again in spite of the wonderful shower he'd just had, he turned his thoughts away from sex and a certain fae's obsession with it and instead turned it to all the homework he had to get done that weekend. He had to study Runes, do a paper for Dark Arts and Their Defense, have a 5-page list of spells learned wandlessly for his practical on Thursday, as well as start making plans for a large-scale zombie project Yankovich had given them a week ago to start thinking about. It wasn't due until two weeks after the break, but the demon had been quick to beat into their heads that if they waited that long to figure out what they wanted to do, they would be fucked once they started trying to get it working.

For example, some of the 'ideas' he had suggested had been along the lines of 'control the zombies so they can do a Kachiwitz dance' or 'act out a small play with zombies.' Which, of course, was a lot more complicated than 'see carcass? Raise carcass.' The classes were starting to focus on more fine-tuned control than just raising zombies for the sake of raising them.

Which of course meant Cyrus was fucked.

His only consoling thought was the little red man who had said he would train Cyrus during the break. Maybe afterwards he'd finally have some semblance of control.

Hopefully.

He spent the rest of the morning doing aforementioned homework, and was just about to leave for the training hall with the spell dummies when Xanthir came flying through his door.

At the sight of Cyrus, sitting at his desk with a bewildered expression on his face, the werewolf let out a panted breath of relief. "Whew! Am I glad to see you. I'd hoped you'd be back from Ashyhole's place by now."

Cyrus coughed and couldn't suppress his blush. "Uh…"

Xanthir didn't let him even pull a thought together, however, rushing forward and closing the book Cyrus was currently reading. "Enough of that. I need ya to come with me, or Caylor's goin' to feed my balls to the local snakes. Up!"

After the morning he'd been having, Cyrus wasn't exactly agreeable to being yanked around. "What the hell, Xanthir!" He pulled himself from the werewolf's rough grip. "Chill out. What's going on?"

Xanthir blinked. "Well aren't you snippy. Didn't get laid this morning?"

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "I didn't _want_ to get laid this morning, not that it's any of your business."

"Yeesh, calm down. Don't get your panties in a twist. Caylor needs your skills as a healer. The bastard poisonin' the pack is back at it. He got some of the adults this time, though, since the kids are bein' more careful after their scare."

The human sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Great. "Let me grab an apple and then we'll go."

Xanthir was literally twitching on the balls of his feet as he waited for Cyrus to walk into the kitchen and pluck an apple from his fruit bowl. Were the werewolves' conditions that bad, or was Xanthir just anxious to save his balls?

"You might wanna get suited up, just in case," the werewolf said as Cyrus slipped the apple and a couple other snacks into one of his bags. Sighing, the human went to the chair set next to the side of his bed and slipped out of his boots and clothes to get the bloody armor on. He hadn't planned on leaving the room that day, so he hadn't bothered to wear it. And yet here he was.

He was beginning to notice a pattern to his life.

"Can't you get that thing on any faster?"

Cyrus's eyes narrowed and he shot a glare at the twitching werewolf. "I get it on as fast as I fucking get it on. Take a valium."

The twitching stopped for a moment as Xanthir tilted his head to the side in confusion. "What's a valium?"

Rolling his eyes – _Tara would have gotten the joke_ – he zipped up his outfit with a manipulation of wandless magic and pulled his clothes back on over top of it. Only _then_ did he put his utility belt back on and cut a hole in his left pant leg that would allow him easy access to his wand holster. The creepy old pervert lady had done well to meet his expectations of the armor. He just wished it had come with a little less… precise measurement.

"Alright. I'm ready," he said, turning back around, and scowled as he got no warning before Xanthir disapparated both of them. He hated side-along apparition. It was bad enough when _he_ had perfect control over it, but when someone else took him for the ride?

Well, he landed on his ass this time. Xanthir wasn't exactly known for precise control.

Unfortunately, he landed on his ass in front of a gathering of werewolves. What a great way to make an entrance.

"Cyrus Obsidian, I appreciate your coming back."

The human closed his eyes and took in a fortifying breath as he pushed himself to his feet as gracefully as he could to limit humiliation. "Uh… you're welcome," he said carefully, not really knowing how he should address the alpha of a pack. No one had lectured him on werewolf politics yet, and he wasn't taking any cultural classes until next year.

Yay.

"I… apologize for the abrupt retrieval, but the level of poisoning is much higher this time than last. The poison was hidden inside a local heard of… elk." He started walking down a familiar hall to the sick room as he spoke, motioning for Cyrus to follow. "I don't know how long they have to live, but I want- would _appreciate_ it if you would heal them as soon as possible."

Cyrus nodded slightly, even though Caylor wasn't looking at him. "Will Macey be there to assist me again?"

This time the werewolf glanced back at him. "Do you prefer her?"

Cyrus blinked. "Uh… I mean, it doesn't really matter, I'm just… familiar with her."

Caylor nodded succinctly and barked something off in another language to one of the cronies following him. The werewolf slinked off into a side hallway and disappeared. Cyrus wasn't really sure how to feel about this… 'catering', but he figured since he was sort of the pack 'healer' that Caylor wanted him to feel… as comfortable as possible?

Honestly, he had no fucking clue. Pack politics meant nothing to him.

Caylor held the door into the sick room open for him, and Cyrus inclined his head slightly as he passed. The werewolf didn't respond, and Cyrus wasn't sure whether it was because he took for granted that everyone would show him respect, or because Cyrus was just a human.

As soon as he caught sight of two men and a woman straining against restraints as they howled in pain, all thoughts of clan politics were wiped from his mind, and he rushed forward to do a quick assessment of the man screaming the loudest. Shit. This was _bad_. Really bad. Doing an internal evaluation of his magical stores, he was relieved to see they were almost completely recharged. He might need a magical transfusion before this was over, though. The amount of poison in the werewolf's body was staggering.

Not wanting to wait for Macey to show up, he turned to the person putting a damp cloth on a sweating forehead and got her attention. "You, whatever your name is, I'm going to begin extracting the poison from his brain and vital organs before moving on to one of the others. I'm going to keep cycling between them until they're all stable. I need you to catch the poison as I remove it, understood?"

The woman's eyes were slightly wide and glazed from all the screaming and the scent of pain and fear in the air, but she nodded her understanding and picked up the bucket that was probably used for vomiting into.

He summoned a chair from the wall with an angry flick of his wrist, not bothering to apologize when it nearly clipped someone on its way to him. He snapped it into place by the bed and sat down, putting his hands on the chest of the man shaking and twisting in his restraints from the agony. He whispered a restraining spell that kept the body completely immobile and got to work on the brain.

Once he'd removed all the poison from the vital organs, he moved to the next victim. Macey had shown up at some point during the process, and she quickly replaced the twitchy werewolf who had been in shock for a while now and sent the younger woman away. Cyrus appreciated the calmer assistant, and focused more of his energy on the poison removal instead of wondering whether his assistant was going to pass out and spill poison everywhere.

He was just finishing the woman's organs when the third man's screaming abruptly cut off and his body went completely still. Eyes widening, he cussed loudly and stopped what he was doing in the middle of the extraction, healing the wound shut and stuffing the poison into a group of skin cells that wouldn't kill the woman as soon as he left her. Racing to the other side of the room, he put his hand on the man's chest and cursed when he saw that the heart had stopped. Casting the spell that manually started pumping the heart at an even rate, he got to work on removing the poison from the man's bloodstream to keep it from spreading again and undoing his work once he got started on the tissues.

He didn't let himself think about what would happen if he was too late.

Unfortunately, just when he was about to get started on the brain his magic chose to start sputtering on him.

"Macey! I need a magical transfusion, _now!_"

But she just looked at him with wide eyes and said the words he did _not_ want to hear at that moment. "I don't know how to do that."

Cyrus felt dread curl in his stomach as he looked at the man whose body was slowly failing even as they sat there staring at him. Shit. Magical transfusion was something you learned in Healing class, wasn't it? How could he have forgotten that? Standing in a flurry of motion, he barked at the other two people still in the room and asked if they could transfuse magic. Their wide eyes told him all he needed to know.

"Fuck!" he shouted, fueling his frustration into it and ignoring the flinching of the werewolves in his vicinity. Striding furiously from the room, forcing the fear clogging at his throat back down, he banged into the small waiting room that separated the sick room from the long hall outside and was pissed when he saw no one there. Going out into the main hall, he saw there was no one there either.

Casting a sonorous charm, he barked, _"Whoever in this bloody cave knows how to do a magical transfusion, get your ass to the sick room NOW_."

He heard a flurry of steps, and werewolves along with Caylor himself showed up within a few minutes.

"What's wrong?" Caylor demanded.

Cyrus wasn't in the mood for the alpha crap. "Do any of you know how to do a magical transfusion?" When they stared at him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Does ANYONE in this pack know how?"

They shook their heads, and one werewolf asked, "Why do the sick need magical transfusions?"

That he even _asked_ such a retarded question only pissed Cyrus off more. Even Caylor was beginning to look irritated now, but Cyrus ignored it as an idea started taking form in the back of his mind due to his agitation. "Who here has the biggest core?" he asked, interrupting whatever the alpha had opened his mouth to say.

A woman stepped forward, and she was obviously a soldier. In fact, most of the werewolves that had shown up at the sick room door appeared to be warriors. He moved towards her to put his hand on her, but she took a step back.

Cyrus was on the edge of furious now. A patient of his was _dying _and this little- "Stand the fuck still," he barked, "or that poor bastard in there is going to be dead in two minutes."

He took another step forward, but she backed away again, looking highly disdainful.

"Marilia. Do as he says," Caylor ordered.

She stiffened, but obeyed, shooting Cyrus a dark look. The human ignored it entirely and put his hand on her chest, acting on instinct he didn't even know was right or wrong or- His magic sensitivity exploded with sensation and input as he _reached_, and he found himself swaying slightly at the sheer power of it. Shaking his head, he focused on sending 'hands' reaching into Marilia like Yankovich had done with him all those months ago in their first Necromancy class.

It certainly wasn't as easy as Yankovich had made it out to be. Trying to push past her skin was like trying to force himself inside a walnut without cracking it, and he didn't even know if he was doing it right in the first place.

"Relax and let me through," he muttered. "Every minute out here is shortening your pack mate's life-span."

She growled at him, but he felt the hard armor of magic under his fingers shift a bit, and he kept trying to _push_ until finally a dam broke and it felt like every nerve in his body was being electrocuted at the same time like a crucio cast by Voldemort himself and he yanked his hand back. He stared at the innocent appendage in shock as the pain began to fade slightly, but not completely go away. Jesus fuck that smarted. Was he doing something wrong? Putting his hand back on her chest, he leaned in again and tried to push past that barrier again, hissing as the familiar fire tore up his arms. Steeling his nerves, he pushed through the pain and started trying to pull her magic into him. It fought him the entire way, 'ripping' and 'tearing' his hands until his eyes began to sting.

Getting pissed off, he reached deep down into her core and started siphoning it off into his body, wanting to get it done as fast as possible so he wouldn't pass out from the pain. It stubbornly refused to follow his direction, so he, recalling the method he'd used to transfer magic in the raising he'd done to save Marianna's life, created a magic 'shunt' out of his magic and forced the magic out of her and into him.

He was unprepared for the influx of power and how quickly it would drain her, however, and the force of the extraction threw him back and into the wall. Marilia collapsed onto the ground, looking dazed but still conscious, while Cyrus fought with the magic that felt like it was tearing him up inside. Exerting his will over it, he tried to get it under control and failed miserably.

_Damn_, but it hurt like a bitch. Why the hell did it hurt so much? Was it because he was magic sensitive? Was this what Yankovich had warned him about in that first Necromancy class when he'd explained what magic sensitivity was? That it could either cause great pleasure or pain?

He just hadn't realized it would hurt _that much_. Fuck. Calling on his reserves of magic, he tried to assimilate the magic and change it to his own wavelength before it tore him apart inside. Was this actually damaging his channels? It took him a few painful seconds of fighting, but finally his magic managed to swallow it and 'purify' the magic of whatever it was that made it _Marilia's_ magic.

It was the most painful ten seconds of his life.

Finally, when the pain faded to a dull ache and the magic was no longer scraping at his insides, he pushed himself off the wall and opened his eyes again. Caylor was next to Marilia on the floor, who looked dazed and exhausted, but seemed to be fine otherwise. The other werewolves were keeping a wide berth from him. Not having the time to worry about what was going through their heads, he spun on his foot and burst back into the sick room. The failing body was waiting for him there, and he ignored Caylor's questions behind him as he threw himself into the chair at the side of the sick man's bed and got to work.

Putting one hand on the head and the other on an unmoving chest, he worked as quickly as he dared to remove the poison from the tissues of the brain and heart before he started in on the rest of the vital organs.

Some time later he finally had the man stable and was able to remove the spell that kept pumping his heart artificially. Using a precisely controlled burst of electricity, he started the heart back up again after three tries. Slumping back in the chair with an explosive sigh, he gratefully accepted the glass of water that one of the other assistants in the room held out to him. He felt… fatigued. Not as tired as the last time he'd done this, but still exhausted. His magic stores were very low, as he'd used up the majority of his magic and burned through all of the werewolf magic he'd 'borrowed'.

"Are you finished already?"

Cyrus craned his head around and saw Caylor there, watching him with unreadable eyes. "No. I've stabilized all three of them, though. I have to warn you that this guy's heart stopped for a while. I kept the blood pumping, but the fact that his body failed… anyway. He might not completely recover or be… all there." He made a vague motion to his head. Caylor inclined his head slightly, but his face was as blank as it had been before. Feeling a little uneasy, Cyrus blathered on. "I mean, I did the best I could to heal him. I took all the poison out of his brain right away, and then his heart, but… You may need to take him to a mind healer. If he has complications, it would be above my skill set by a _large_ margin." Like Svea had pounded into their heads – if they didn't know what they were doing, go find someone smarter than they were.

"I… see. I hope it's not necessary."

Cyrus nodded and took another sip of water. "I'm out of magic for the next couple of days, unless I do more magic transfusions."

Caylor's eyes widened. "Marilia's magic was not enough?"

Cyrus snorted. "I barely healed him with that little amount of magic."

Caylor was looking at him now as if he were some strange animal he'd never seen before. "She has one of the largest cores in our pack."

The human shrugged, not sure what the werewolf was implying with that comment.

Caylor was staring at him now, and it made him distinctly uncomfortable. "You really do have an enormous core. Would another healer be able to deal with this level of poison removal?"

Cyrus made a thoughtful sound. "Well… I just know the process requires a lot of magic. I don't really know much of anything about Healer practice, so maybe they have solutions for that kind of thing." Svea hadn't, but he was only one man. A team of healers might have been able to handle it.

The alpha's head tilted to the side. "I… see. And how did you take Marilia's magic in that way?"

Cyrus kept his face smooth and blank, lifting his eyebrows slowly in a look of innocence. "Who?" He didn't know how in the world his sickness had allowed him to suck magic out of other people and convert it for his own body's use, but he certainly wasn't going to go around blabbing the particularities of his illness to someone he wasn't entirely sure he could trust.

"Hm." Caylor stood there and watched him a while longer, making Cyrus feel very uncomfortable and awkward. Finally, he spoke again. "Do you know who is poisoning my pack?"

This was beginning to feel like an interrogation. He didn't like it. "No, I don't." Time for a distraction. "Where's Xanthir?"

A flair of annoyance in golden eyes. "I sent him away so he would not distract you."

Uh huh. Like Cyrus believed that. His werewolf friend was smarter than that.

"You must have gleamed something from the encounter with this… Dorcas."

Cyrus shrugged. "I was unconscious for half of it."

Caylor didn't fall for his diversion. "You have resources and connections he does not."

"Not really. Who do I know that he doesn't that… might…" He stared into space for a moment, wondering. He hadn't talked to Severus or Remus recently. Perhaps they had done some investigating since he'd last seen them? Besides, it wasn't like they couldn't defend themselves from Caylor's stubborn tenacity. Why not throw him a bone to get him off Cyrus's back? "I could get in contact with my guardians and see if they know anything."

Caylor's eyes gleamed in the magic lighting. "And who are your guardians?"

"Well, Severus is a vampire and Remus is the Alpha of-"

"Cyrus!" Xanthir interrupted, busting into the room. He looked very annoyed and growled at Caylor as he walked to the human.

Cyrus felt annoyed at the bad timing. Why couldn't the werewolf have shown up _before_ Caylor started trying to pry information from the poor little human.

"Are you alright?" Xanthir asked, and the concern in his eyes lessened Cyrus's irritation somewhat. "Caylor hasn't driven you to exhaustion yet has he? I heard your call, but they wouldn't let me leave to come find you since I didn't know how to do a magical transfusion either." He glared at Caylor, standing to Cyrus's side as if to protect his back in case Caylor 'tried' anything.

The Alpha didn't look happy at the interruption. "Your presence wasn't required, Xanthir. Leave. Obsidian and I are in the middle of a discussion."

Xanthir snorted and sneered. "More like you're interrogating him for information. You don't have to share anything with Caylor, Cyrus. It's not a part of your contract. He has no business forcing you to do anything."

Cyrus frowned. While that was true, telling Caylor about Remus and Severus would serve two purposes. First, it would get the werewolf off his back, and second, if Remus and Severus actually knew something that resulted in Dorcas getting his head chopped off, Cyrus wouldn't be worked so bloody hard. "I want to stop these poisonings as much as the next person, Xanthir. In case you hadn't noticed, _I'm _the one getting magically exhausted every time this happens."

The adolescent werewolf frowned, chewing his lip indecisively. "But-"

"I know you and Caylor have some… issues, but we don't need anyone else dying. I almost couldn't save the last one, Xanthir. The poisonings are getting worse, and soon it's going to get to the point where I won't be able to do anything." Giving the werewolf a _look_, he was relieved when his friend seemed to acquiesce and back down with a grumble. Turning his attention back to Caylor, he continued. "Severus is a vampire and Remus is the Alpha of a pack in Human Realm. Remus was the first to be poisoned, I think, and Severus went to investigate on the poisons origins. They might have more information than I'm privy to."

Caylor's eyes glowed. "An Alpha? You have an Alpha as a guardian? From what pack," he demanded.

Cyrus frowned in thought. "Uh, I dunno. I've never asked him."

He was getting that 'what do you mean you- oh my god, you're such a human' look again. Tara gave it to him so often he was getting professional at recognizing it.

Xanthir, thankfully, filled Cyrus in on what he was missing. "It's odd for a werewolf to have a human for a pup, Cyrus, and even more so for him to be involved with a vampire. Our species generally don't get along. And if you were to bring Remus here, there'd be a shitload of politics involved."

Cyrus rubbed his forehead. Great. Politics. "So, what, do I contact Remus? Bring him here? Let you guys duke it out? How's this shit work, already."

Xanthir patted him on the shoulder with a grin. "Just be glad you don't have to deal with it on a regular basis." He completely ignored Caylor's growl. "In order for Remus to come onto Adelphos Pack lands, he would need to bring a gift."

Cyrus frowned. "But it's _your_ clan that wants something from _him_, not the other way around."

Xanthir grinned. "A valid point. But what if our pack was to offer him something to come here, arrange it all, and then he knows nothing? That would cause a shit storm in itself. And arranging to meet on the neutral lands of another pack would be even more complicated."

Cyrus grumbled under his breath and rubbed his temples. "Why can't I just bring him with me back to Human Realm so he can meet them and ask them?"

"An Alpha go without his entourage and proper protection? Not gonna happen."

"This is fucking ridiculous. I'm already getting a headache."

"Welcome to the story of my life."

"Well then how are we supposed to arrange this 'meeting' with the least amount of frustration?"

"Politics aren't really my forte. Tara's better at that. And besides, generally you need a neutral party to figure out this shit because one side is always trying to get more out of the other and they never agree on what's equal trade or payment."

"Why can't they just meet at Shikaan? Remus brings Severus, who also might know information, and Caylor brings one trusted bodyguard."

Xanthir opened his mouth to answer, but it just flopped like a fish for a few seconds before he looked at Caylor. "Uh, Shikaan's neutral ground, right? Do you think Kyranes might allow it?"

The werewolf watched his nephew with a stony expression. "I do now know your Headmistress personally, Xanthir."

"I could ask Severus to ask her. He seems to know her, at least."

"But what if she says no?"

"Well… um… I could ask someone else for neutral grounds? Maybe Tara knows a place."

"You can't bring vampire politics into it, Cyrus. Shikaan is neutral ground, Tara's house isn't."

"Damn. Well, then let's just ask Kyranes."

Xanthir's eyebrows rose. "You're just going to waltz into her office and ask?"

Cyrus pushed himself to his feet and shrugged. "Well, either that or ask Severus. We don't even know if Severus and Remus are willing to meet with Caylor at this point. Should probably start with asking them." Rolling his shoulders to crack his stiff back, he checked how much magic he had left. Enough for traveling, he estimated. "I'll be right back." Before either could utter a word, he disapparated with a _pop_.

And reappeared in a living room that was being occupied by two distinctly naked bodies. Spinning on his foot, he went straight into the kitchen and stuck his head in the fridge. He didn't need to see that.

"Cyrus? Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Visiting. But apparently that was a miscalculation on my part."

Remus coughed quietly. "Sorry about that," the werewolf said, walking into the kitchen with a pair of pants pulled on and a housecoat around his shoulders. "What brings you back?"

Awkward. "Well, it's… a bit complicated, you might say." He closed the fridge and snagged an apple from the fruit bowl. "There's this werewolf pack in Other Realm, called the… Adelphos Pack? Anyway, my friend Xanthir is a part of it. Severus has already met him, I think. And this clan has suffered poisonings on two separate occasions from that poison that nearly killed you in the past month or so."

Remus's eyes widened, and Cyrus took a bite out of his apple. He was starving. "What do you mean, in the past month? The poison is being circulated in Other Realm? I thought he was only attacking British packs."

Cyrus shook his head. "No. Around sixteen or so kids got poisoned from a contaminated creek a while ago, and I ended up healing them all. It was… complicated. Anyway, I've sort of become the pseudo healer of the pack now, and they asked me to come and heal another three cases, except this time they were adults and the level of poison content was the highest I've ever seen. One of them went into cardiac arrest before I finished stabilizing them all, and I'm nearly drained of magic just _stabilizing_ the three. I've already had one magic transfusion today. If the bastard doing this keeps it up, I'm going to die of magic exhaustion in a week." So what if he was feeling a little dramatic today. It was true! "I've got studies to worry about, I can't become a full time healer and be magically exhausted all the time. If my magic stays that low for too long, my death magic's going to go bat-shit."

Remus blinked. "You…" He chuckled softly. "You barely sound British anymore. I never paid it much attention before, but you're definitely picking up someone else's accent."

The human stared at him. "I tell you all of that and all you can think about is how British I don't sound?"

The werewolf shrugged. "You said 'bat-shit', what am I supposed to think? But getting back on track, why exactly are you the healer of this pack? Surely you're not obligated to heal them. Why can't they go to proper healers instead of taxing a student? You're far too young for them to be taking advantage of you like this. It's not your responsibility."

Cyrus frowned. "It- they- Remus, healing this level of poisoning isn't as simple as sending them to St. Mungos. Healer _Svea_ couldn't heal you because he didn't have a large enough core to do it. This isn't something that you can just walk into the local hospital over, and I don't even know if Other Realm _has_ a hospital. I mean, they said something about not being able to get a contract with the Aengar, but I don't know what the fuck that means."

Remus looked thoughtful. "But didn't you say earlier that you healed 16 children? Even with such a large core, that makes it sound as though it's not very hard."

"Children are a third of the size of a normal man, _and_ I had a transfusion from Tara that day."

"Aah. I see. Interesting. So what would you like me to do about this situation you've found yourself in?" Remus put the kettle on the stove and started setting up a pot of tea. His movements were graceful and reminded Cyrus of a stalking predator.

"Caylor, the Alpha of the Adelphos Pack, wants to speak to you on neutral ground concerning who's poisoning his werewolves and why."

Remus's movements paused for a moment, and then deadly serious eyes focused on Cyrus. "You do realize how difficult that is going to set up."

"I figured if you bring Severus, and Caylor brings a bodyguard, then the meeting will be less about the power of the packs and more about the actual problem at hand. I suggested we meet at Shikaan, but I needed to see if you were even up for it before I tried to bargain _that_ one with the Headmistress."

Remus hummed thoughtfully as he poured the magically-boiled water into the pot. "Is Shikaan often used for diplomatic relations?"

"I have no idea."

"Hmm. And what's the alternative if you can't arrange that meeting place?"

"No idea."

Remus sighed. "You still jump into situations without giving it much thought." Cyrus scowled. "Very well. I will meet with this Alpha if he has agreed to these terms, and we will discuss further after meeting at Shikaan."

Cyrus nodded. "Um… I was kind of wondering if Severus wouldn't mind asking Kyranes if we can meet there?"

"That would be unwise," the smooth and slightly cold voice said from the living room. "I am no longer a Shikaan student, and so my words have very little weight in that school. It would be wiser if you were to ask her yourself."

Cyrus grimaced. "Alright." He finished off his apple and tossed the core in the garbage. "I'll see you guys in a bit." He disapparated.

It was like the day that never ended.

He reappeared in one of the main hallways near Kyranes's office. Gathering up his courage, he walked towards the Headmistress's door and quietly knocked. It swung open, and he blinked before hesitantly slipping inside.

"Take a seat Mr. Obsidian, I'll be right with you."

Licking his lips nervously, he did as instructed and picked a chair to sit in. Glancing around, he took in the sparse decorations and professional atmosphere and gulped. Why had he decided to do this again? How old _was_ Kyranes, anyway?

"What can I do for you?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Uh…" Great. What a way to start this intelligent conversation, you idiot. "I came to ask… a favor?"

Kyranes watched him. "Are you aware of what it is exactly that you are asking when you ask for a favor from a vampire?"

The human blinked. Er… "Not really."

She nodded, but didn't sneer at him or otherwise make him feel any more like an idiot than he already felt. "Asking a favor from a vampire is a rather difficult matter. If you are not careful in establishing the rules of this 'contract', so to speak, you may trip and find yourself enslaved to them or doing a favor for them in return that results in your death."

Cyrus's eyes widened in shock. That definitely hadn't been what he expected…

"I would suggest you take some time this summer to immerse yourself in the cultures of Other Realm. If you stumble blindly for too long, you may run into trouble. I will not give you a favor, but you may make a request and I may or may not decide to grant it to you. For a price."

What was the difference between a favor and a request? But no, that wasn't his question… "I need neutral ground for two Alphas to meet on to discuss some… things."

Kyranes inclined her head in understanding. "I see. It is not unusual for alumni of Shikaan to ask to borrow conference rooms for a time."

"I don't think either of them are alumni."

"I see. So you are requesting that two strangers enter and conduct their business on school grounds?"

Cyrus bit his lip. He couldn't read the look on Kyranes's face. "Um, yes?"

"I see." She leaned back in her desk chair and stared contemplatively at her bookshelf for a time. "What is it they are discussing?"

Well, it wasn't like she couldn't figure it out some other way, right? Or use spying charms? "There's been a few poisonings lately. Something that completely incapacitates werewolves and slowly kills unless it's removed from their bodies. It's incredibly painful, and few healers have enough magic to completely heal one poisoned person."

Two lilac eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? That is interesting. I recall Rivehn discussing that with Yankovich in the past. Apparently there is a human vampire in Human Realm who discovered it. The clans are currently working on locating him."

Cyrus's eyes widened. "They haven't found him yet?"

"Apparently he has learned well the ways of hiding. I will allow these two Alphas to meet on school grounds." She reached into her pocked and pulled out a key with a metal card attached to it. "This is the key to conference room 4. It's located on the top floor of the East wing."

Cyrus blinked as he stood up to take the key from her hand. "You're giving this to me for free?"

A mysterious smile crossed her face. "I never said that. Have a good day, Mr. Obsidian. Continue to work hard in your classes," she dismissed, turning back to the papers on her desk.

The human hesitantly stood and went to the door, glancing behind himself to see Kyranes sitting there, writing something. Shrugging to himself, he left the room.

If it wasn't free, then what exactly was she getting out of this?

He went to look for the room before going to get the two Alphas, not wanting to drag them around Shikaan on his search for it. It didn't take him long, but he almost missed it because the door was hidden away behind a rather interesting statue of a water nymph. Slipping the key into the hole, he turned it until he heard a click. Slowly opening the door, he peaked his head into the unfamiliar space and blinked at the much brighter colors. Shikaan was built mostly out of black marble, and while there were gray and white lines in the stone, it didn't exactly make for a warm, homey, or bright atmosphere. This conference room, however, was made completely out of white marble with pink and green used for design. The only thing that had been spared were the wooden chairs that surrounded the table that mushroomed out of the floor.

Walking inside, he closed and locked the door behind him. Didn't want someone interrupting, now did he? He could feel the wards activate as soon as the lock was turned, and the power of them really was amazing. He wished he could create some for his room to keep the vampires out instead of having to use that ridiculous and annoying web of lights to get rid of shadows. Getting curious about how they worked, he activated his rune sight. Five minutes later he _knew_ that it must have been Rivehn who made them, as the style and structures were very similar to what he saw in class every day. From what he could gleam from the wards, they would let whoever had the key in, and anyone inside out.

Satisfied that he could bring Remus and the others here with no problems, he disapparated from the room and back to the house.

Remus and Severus were dressed now, thank Merlin.

"Did she agree?" the werewolf asked.

Cyrus nodded. "Yeah. We have a conference room to use now. I'll take you there," he said, holding out his hands to them so he could side-along apparate them. His magic wasn't completely depleted yet, but he wouldn't be casting any more spells than necessary for the next few days. Usually it took three days for his magic to recover itself after a draining – _if_ the draining wasn't related to his illness.

After taking his guardians to the conference room, he returned to the sick room back in Caylor's caves.

Xanthir was leaning against a wall flipping a knife in his hand, while the Alpha stood in the middle of the room with an impatient expression on his face. When Cyrus appeared with a _pop_, he raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Cyrus looked at Xanthir. "We have a go. I've arranged for a conference room at Shikaan, and Severus and Remus are already waiting there."

Caylor's eyebrows rose. "So soon? The Headmistress was rather quick to agree."

Cyrus shrugged. He wasn't entirely sure what ulterior motive Kyranes might have had that she would say the key wasn't free, but he wasn't about to share his misgivings with Caylor. "If you'll give me your hands, I'll side-along you to the conference room."

Caylor motioned to a man with a blank expression who stood near the door to the room. Cyrus hadn't noticed him before, and when the man moved he couldn't help but feel threatened. Bodyguard?

"I'll meet you back at Shikaan, Cyrus," Xanthir said, spinning his knife one last time before sheathing it.

The human nodded and took the proffered hands of two men who could probably break him in two pieces with little effort at all. With a squeezing sensation, he disapparated.

And reappeared in the white marble room. Remus and Severus were standing by one of the walls, looking like they'd been interrupted in the middle of a conversation. When magic started churning and tension in the room rose, Cyrus took a step back from the apparently-volatile situation and watched with careful eyes.

Remus and Caylor grandstanded for a moment before Remus seemed to calm. The werewolf moved toward the table and took a seat, Severus moving to stand behind him. "Perhaps we'll get more done if we stop trying to intimidate each other?" Remus smiled, and if Cyrus hadn't just seen it with his own eyes he wouldn't have believed the normally docile man could go from animalistic to diplomat in half a second.

Caylor said nothing, but took a seat as well.

Remus turned to Cyrus. "As per the rules of this negotiation, you can't be here Cyrus."

The human nodded. "I'll be at home." He disapparated to his room to get his homework before leaving Shikaan altogether. He had a feeling he was going to need the time killer.

_oOo_

Remus and Severus didn't return until late that night. However, the lack of angry shouting or tension upon their arrival indicated things had gone… at least somewhat well. Closing the Dark Arts text he was taking notes from for his essay, he looked at the two inquiringly. "So, how'd it go?"

Remus went straight for the tea. "It was long and painful, but we have a Treaty established now."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. "Wow. So this went beyond just information transfer."

Remus nodded. "Yes. Caylor was unaware that you were a part of a pack when he contracted you for assistance, so this put the negotiations in my favor. He's been taking advantage of one of the assets of my clan without proper payment, and even though you said that you didn't want payment for your services, technically it is up to the Alpha to decide that. So, to put it simply, your contract with him became null and void, and we worked out a new contract. He was unwilling to completely let go of you as a healer, so I was able to negotiate for more than I would normally be able to get away with."

The human stared at him. "You used me as a bargaining chip?!"

Remus sighed. "It was necessary, Cyrus. He was taking advantage of your kindness. _Now_ he is unable to ask for your services unless someone you trust is there to make sure you don't work yourself to death, among other things. He can't call on you for something like the common cold, either. If it can heal naturally, he can't ask for you, and if you are unable to heal it due to you only being a _first year_ Shikaan student, he is unable to seek retribution. Even if someone dies."

Cyrus's eyes widened, and the werewolf sighed. "You really need to be more careful when entering a contract, Cyrus."

The human scowled. "So everyone keeps telling me. Where am I supposed to learn this shit, exactly?"

"Experienced people, books, courses…"

Cyrus felt like banging his head against the wall. "Great. Whatever. So you have this thing with Caylor figured out?"

Remus nodded. "Yes. I'll explain the details to you in more depth later, if you'd like."

"Might as well know what I'm dealing with."

Remus started cooking a late dinner after that, which consisted of a lot of meat and very little else. Cyrus didn't mind, really, and found the table conversation of Voldemort's activities interesting. Apparently the Order was having a hard time pinning him down, as he kept moving about in search of something. One week he was in Egypt, the next he was in Australia. Either it was bad intelligence, or the Dark Lord was really spastic when deciding on places to look for this 'thing'. There seemed no logic to his search.

"Dumbledore's being his usual irritating self," Remus muttered. "He has yet to call off the search for you, even though it's been dead in the water for months."

Severus snorted. "Dealing with ignorant children was difficult, but walking through the webs Dumbledore weaves is something I am glad I no longer suffer."

The werewolf shook his head with a rueful smile. "He still asks the Order if any of us have heard from you or know your whereabouts. According to the new 'spy', you're brewing some secret new weapon for him."

Severus scoffed. "That new spy is a farce, merely a show for the Order. They are hardly deep enough into the Death Eaters to discern anything before it is too late."

Remus nodded. "True."

Cyrus took a sip of his tea. "So, what exactly is this thing he's looking for? And what's happened since he attacked the Ministry?"

Remus sighed. "Ah, yes. Baldrick Nott is currently running for Minister. Scrimgeour was assassinated some time ago, and ever since then Voldemort has been trying to insert someone malleable into the position. Apparently Amelia Bones is giving him some trouble, though. The Order has been trying to 'protect' her, but most of them are hardly soldiers. I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, bringing people like Molly Weasley into what is essentially supposed to be a hit wizard team. More like Dumbledore's little army of drones. Half of the Order is not suited for combat of any kind and do not have the training to last against a real Death Eater for any length of time. It is a ridiculous situation," Remus bitched before taking a big bite out of his steak.

Cyrus was staring at him with a mixture of mild fascination and surprise. Remus was definitely very… opinionated on that subject. Then again, he was the Alpha of a pack now. He had been training with Severus, and he was quite capable of holding the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Being forced to fight alongside what were essentially civilians must be frustrating.

"How many get themselves killed with each raid?" he asked, curious.

Remus let out an irritated breath. "They always arrive too late to do anything whenever there is a raid, and Voldemort has been cutting back on those recently. He's been using his resources for whatever it is that he's looking for."

Cyrus made a thoughtful noise and nibbled at a piece of steak. Well, he was glad he didn't have to deal with _that_ on a daily basis. He could only imagine what kind of hell he'd be in right now if he were actually in Hogwarts or the Order. He probably wouldn't even know four shielding charms, Dumbledore would probably have been mysterious about Voldemort's activities all year, and some mystery would have popped up that he was supposed to solve. Thank Merlin Remus and Severus had gotten him out of that snake pit.

"So, how's school going for you?" Remus asked, obviously wanting to change the rather ire-inspiring subject.

Cyrus let out an explosive sigh and finished off his tea before preparing another cup. "Crazy, not that that's new." He sighed. "Someone tried to assassinate me – three times. My death magic went out of control and nearly blew up Shikaan. And some bastard called Guylan challenged me to a fight because people were spreading rumors about me thinking I was more powerful than him, which of course is shit because I didn't even know who the guy was. Then _he_ tried to kill me with some ritual spell, and it was only my death magic nearly blowing up Shikaan that saved my life. So yeah. It's been a busy couple of weeks." Not to mention he got laid, but he wasn't going to mention that. Not under threat of torture.

Severus and Remus were staring at him like he was crazy. "Assassination attempts? Who did you drive to homicide, Cyrus?" the vampire asked with what was unmistakably humor in his voice.

Cyrus scowled. "Hell if I know. Bastard keeps coming back for more, though."

Remus shook his head. "You really should visit more often or send letters, even if it's just so we know that you're alive."

The human shrugged. "Or you could get a magi-com so I don't have to do that owl crap."

"What's a magi-com?"

And so Cyrus proceeded to educate them on the benefits of having a 'portable fire' to make 'fire calls'. By the time dinner was finished, they'd gotten him to promise that he would get them both a magi-com so they could contact him and each other more easily.

"If Shikaan is so dangerous, why do you sleep there?" Remus asked as they moved into the living room to continue their discussion of his school life.

Cyrus grumbled and poured some fire whisky into his tea. Neither Remus nor Severus said anything about it. "Basically, there's some sort of unwritten rule that since Shikaan is technically a boarding school, you have to sleep there. I think it only applies to weekdays, though. I mean, people leave to go home on the weekends pretty often."

"Well, if you want a break from assassination attempts," here Remus sounded like he couldn't decide between humor or worry, "why don't you get a place off campus or come here?"

Cyrus scoffed. "With what happened earlier today? I walked in on you in the _living room_. Not sure I want to visit much after that. I'd have to call you before coming over or risk inevitable mental scarring, and renting some place that I wouldn't even live in for most of the time is a waste of money."

Remus had the decency to blush, though Severus looked like he could care less as he sipped at some blood. "Why not use one of the Potter estates?" The vampire drawled, tone snide as he said 'Potter'. "I am sure there is at least one that would suit your purposes."

Cyrus stared at him. "What? Potter estates?" And then he remembered that trunk of properties and papers back at Gringotts. "Holy shit. Why didn't I think of that earlier?"

Severus snorted and muttered what might have been 'Gryffindors' under his breath. Cyrus pretended not to hear it as ideas started pouring through his head. He could _relax_ for once on a weekend. Sleep without magic lights getting rid of all the shadows. He got up to leave for Gringotts right away before realizing that they were probably closed for the weekend. Not wanting to look like an idiot, he went into the kitchen and fixed himself another cup of tea.

He was spiking this one too.

_oOo_

Cyrus went back to Shikaan the next morning, since he'd finished with the Dark texts he'd taken from the library and needed new sources for his paper. On the way back to his rooms afterwards, he caught sight of Guylan and made a quick escape before the human could do more than scowl at him.

Remus had explained his new 'contract' with the Adelphos Pack more thoroughly later that night, and Cyrus's head was still spinning from the amount of shit that constituted werewolf politics. He'd learned enough for his immediate situation and had told Remus to stop after that before his head exploded. The werewolf had just laughed.

The rest of the weekend was spent in his rooms studying or in one of the training halls working on the giant list of spells they had to have learned for Claerant by Thursday. He'd popped by Kyranes's office to drop off the key on his way to the library for more textbooks, and while he had had a few close calls with Guylan, he successfully managed to avoid him for the rest of the day as well as Monday and Tuesday. He went to Gringotts Monday afternoon, and had picked out a property quickly enough, in New Zealand of all places. Who'd look for him there? The vacation home was situated on a rather nice beach too, with wards that kept it disconnected from the muggle world and hidden from magical eyes as well.

Well to be honest, Rivehn probably could have found it if he had been looking for it, and it wouldn't keep out anyone with a decent knowledge of runes or vampires – since the wards didn't block that kind of magical transportation since it had been Human Realm wizards that made them – but the fact that no one knew he was _there_ would be protection enough really.

After that was done he'd returned to the Adelphos Pack to finish healing the poisoning victims, since his magic had mostly recovered. Xanthir hadn't sent him any dramatic texts or phone calls demanding he return right away, so he figured he was allowed to rest and recover. When he showed up at the sick room to see that his patients were up and moving, if in a great deal of pain, he finished cleansing their systems and told them to call him if they weren't fully healed in a few days.

When Wednesday morning rolled around, Welkins was his usual stick-up-the-ass slave-driver self. The instructor told them they would be beginning weapons training with Ouragan after the break just so he could beat their lifted spirits back down with another obstacle course _– more like maze from hell – _that reminded Cyrus of the Third Task and the subsequent battle with Voldemort. Xanthir had skipped for some reason that morning, too, so he didn't have an ally watching his back as the other students tried to… 'thin' the competition. Afterwards, when he was walking to Runes after healing many broken bones, extensive bruising, and an array of lacerations, he paused at the end of a hallway and frowned. He swore he could hear-

A muffled crack echoed through the marble halls, and before he even realized what he was doing, Cyrus's legs started jogging down the hallway. Casting a silencing charm to keep his boots from making a ruckus, he made his way to the corner and came to a stop before peaking around.

"-k off, Lihmeth."

"Aw, is poor little brother unable to defend himself? A full semester at Shikaan and you're still as weak as you ever were. You're-" a loud smack of flesh hitting flesh, "-always going to be a weakling."

The smaller guy on the floor scoffed and spat out a mouthful of blood. "I'm weak? _Father_ pounded your ass too, Lih-"

"DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT!" Cyrus watched with wide eyes as Asteras – the vampire he'd remembered to avoid after getting bit in the middle of the night, the asshole that he'd nearly fried the balls off of, the bastard that Rivehn had insulted and banned from biting him again – kicked the shit out of the guy huddled defenseless on the ground. "I know you did something, you little fucker! It's your fault they're gone and we're left with nothing!"

The guy on the floor protected his face with his arms. "And you'd rather it stay the same as it was and have all the money?"

"Anything would be better than the ridicule I have to suffer now!" he shouted, landing another kick to the guy's stomach.

The guy on the floor scowled. "Oh? Is big brother too _weak_ to deal with a little-"

Asteras let out a furious shout and pulled out his wand, snapping out the words of a rather Dark spell that could easily kill a human being.

But Cyrus was already reacting, a silent summoning charm pulling the guy on the floor through the air towards him. The human caught him with an _oof_, and was quick to erect a bubble shield to protect them from the volley of Dark curses flying their way as Asteras fumed. Cyrus had no idea what they were fighting about, but he _did_ know that Asteras was a bully and an asshole. A bully who beat on his own _family_, like Dudley used to do to him.

And that wasn't acceptable.

Drawing his death stick, he sent an explosive hex blasting down the hallway, destroying the magic lights on the ceiling as well as most of the statues that got in the way. When the fire receded and the smoke plumed up to the ceiling before dissipating, he saw no sign of Asteras. Eyes narrowing, he spread out his senses and found the vampire coming at him from the shadow behind him. Casting wandlessly, he sent the same blasting hex out through the channels of his back, throwing them forward while attacking Asteras at the same time.

He caught sight of the vampire hissing at him and cradling his bloody, torn arm before he disappeared into the shadows and left them in peace.

Well, a modicum of peace.

The guy in his arms was struggling like crazy now that the threat was gone, and when Cyrus didn't let go in his surprise, two fangs sank into his forearm and went right to the bone. Letting out a cry of pain, he tried to pull away only to have the fangs refuse to let him go. As the potent venom went through his system, he found his body slowly slackening and becoming heavy. He could feel two hands settle on his forearm to hold it in place, but he couldn't find the strength to pull away.

"Wha…" he slurred, trying to keep himself upright but slowly tilting forward to lean against the guy's back. "Can't… mo..ve…" And then a wave of heat spread through him and had him gasping and hardening beneath his suit. Letting out a low moan, he grunted as he was abruptly released and collapsed to the floor. The guy was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth covered in his blood. A pink tongue slipped out to lick two bloody lips.

Cyrus, freaked out about his current condition, focused his attention inward and found both the aphrodisiac and something else spinning about in his bloodstream. Not particularly caring about getting a hard-on, he focused on the _other_ and started pulling it out through the holes in his arm. Once he stopped it from reaching his brain, he found himself able to move and quickly stumbled to his feet and away from the vampire still on the floor.

It didn't take him long to remove the poison, as most of it was in his bloodstream and he could 'catch' it as it left one of his arteries and then direct it to leave by his arm. Tilting his bleeding arm downward, he forced the poison of sorts out and heard a plop and drips as it and his blood hit the floor. Satisfied that the poison had left his system, he closed the bite wound, all the while keeping his eyes on the vampire he had saved and then been attacked by.

A vampire that was still on the ground, looking up at him with a peculiar glow to his eyes. Was he getting high off the magic in his blood? Tara still did that, even though she'd been 'getting used' to his blood for a while now.

"You can move," the vampire slurred slightly, still staring at Cyrus with that slightly dreamy glaze to his eyes.

"Er… yeah."

"You're immune to my venom?"

"No. I know how to extract poison."

"Oh."

They stared at each other, the vampire still licking his lips and using his thumb to catch some blood and then bring it to his mouth. "You taste delicious. For a human." His head tilted to the side, the glow in his eyes beginning to fade slightly and the glazed expression becoming blank and slightly cold. "Thank you for your help," he said, pushing himself to his feet and cracking his broken arm back into place.

Cyrus grimaced at the sound. "Uh, want me to heal that for you?"

A darkness flashed in the vampire's eyes. "What do you want?"

Cyrus frowned. What was with this guy? He was just trying to help. Why was he getting all defensive? "To help."

"For what price?"

Now _he_ was the one scowling. "I'm not- it's not going to cost you anything," he bit out impatiently, sheathing his death stick.

"There is always a cost."

"Yeah well, I don't do that. So if you want me to heal your arm, I will. If you don't, I won't." He crossed his arms over his chest and gave the vampire an assessing look.

The guy looked positively befuddled. Well, that's what Cyrus would like to say he could read in the guy's face. And the only reason he was even making that kind of guess was because he'd been in close quarters with _Snape_ for a few months.

"It is not necessary. With the blood, it is already healing."

Cyrus grunted and cast an eye at the red liquid that had spilled onto the ground. Waving his hand, he vanished it so no one else could get their hands on it. The vampire twitched at the movement, but when Cyrus did nothing more than clean up the mess, his tension relaxed slightly.

The silence was awkward. "Well… I'll… er, see you later then, I guess," Cyrus stumbled, turning around to go back the way he'd come. He was probably late for Runes at this point.

The vampire mumbled something quietly behind him, but Cyrus didn't catch it so he just assumed the guy had been speaking to himself.

Hopefully Rivehn wouldn't kill him for being late. At least his hard-on had faded. It would be embarrassing as hell to walk into the room leaking arousal like that. Slowing from his jog, he slipped through the classroom door as quietly as possible, taking a seat beside Xanthir.

Copying the notes on the board quickly, as Rivehn was in the middle of a lecture, he tried to pretend he'd been there the whole time.

He wasn't that lucky, of course.

"Mr. Obsidian. What would happen if I were to use a kilarian execution sequence instead of a jarvitz when creating a Dark spell?"

Cyrus grimaced. Oh he was _very_ glad he'd started studying this weekend. "You'd blow yourself up, sir."

Rivehn eyes flashed in the lighting with what Cyrus _hoped_ was amusement and not ridicule. He hated it when he didn't know the right answer to one of Rivehn's questions. "That is correct, Mr. Obsidian." The human let out a breath of relief. "Can you tell me why that is?"

His brain froze for a second as he tried to remember why. "Uh… Dark spells are dangerous and unstable and the kilarian execution sequence is usually used for… charms?"

"Very good, though you are missing a few important elements." And thus continued the lecture. Rivehn didn't put him on the spot again after that, and by the end of class Cyrus had multiple pages worth of notes that would be very helpful for the test on Friday. However, just as he was about to get up to leave class, Rivehn asked him to wait behind. Grimacing, he looked at Xanthir and saw the werewolf giving him a sympathetic expression.

"I'll wait for ya outside," he said quietly, patting Cyrus on the shoulder before leaving with the rest of the class.

Nervous, Cyrus wondered if he should stay seated in his desk or stand up. That decision was made for him, however, when he made to stand up and Rivehn motioned him to stay where he was. Plopping back down into the chair, he tried to keep the grimace off his face. Was the vampire angry at him for being late?

Green eyes watched the tall vampire's lithe form, decked out another muggle dress shirt and pants, as Rivehn made his way up the stairs. The vampire sat down on top of the desk in front of him, his long legs crossing, one arm braced for balance while was thrown casually across his lap… and he was still tall enough to stare down at Cyrus despite the fact that the classroom was like a lecture hall.

"How is your tutoring with Soterios progressing?"

Cyrus's ram-rod straight spine relaxed a bit. "Uh, pretty good."

"You are no longer having such difficulties with understanding Transfiguration?" When Cyrus shook his head, the vampire nodded. "Unless you are planning to continue in Transfiguration, I would suggest that you begin focusing your time on the end-of-year project. Have you decided what you are going to do for it?"

Cyrus's mind blanked as he stared at his professor. This was very… odd. Rivehn usually didn't go to the _student_ and inquire about these things. In fact, unless you were very insistent and a hard worker in his class, he wouldn't even let you use up any of his office hours, as he reserved that free time for his upper years usually.

"Mr. Obsidian?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Cyrus felt blood rushing to his cheeks at the intensity of the amethyst eyes staring at him. "Uh… no, I haven't decided." When Rivehn's eyebrows rose, he bit his lip. "Uh, not that I haven't been thinking about it!" Close save. Now, as he _hadn't_ actually been thinking about it, what could he do a project on…? "I'm, ah, rather interested in warding. I was thinking of doing something like that."

Rivehn's eyebrows rose even higher. "Warding? That is rather… ambitious, considering it is not something you learn in class until third year. Why not create a spell instead?"

Cyrus shrugged. "I haven't made up my mind yet, really."

Rivehn made a thoughtful sound. "I see. I would suggest you choose to create a spell instead, as we have been covering theory for that all year. One that interests you or you have been looking for but have been unable to find." The teacher unfolded his legs and slipped smoothly off the desk in a motion that Cyrus never would have managed to make look so se- er, smooth. Yeah.

Shrinking his book bag and slipping it into a pocket, he got ready to leave the classroom.

"And Mr. Obsidian. Do not be late to my class again."

The human twitched and nodded his head, making a quick escape. Xanthir was waiting outside, just like he promised, and soon they were walking to the Main Hall for some grub.

A curse came flying his way, and he cast a shield spell to block it easily. Turning around, his eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Troy Guylan. "What the hell?" he asked, hand slipping down to draw his death stick. Why was Guylan being so bloody insistent? If the bastard wanted to play dirty, Cyrus would _play dirty_. He had done a bit of research on that weird circle and triangles shit on the ground, and he knew it was ritualistic now. Still didn't know what it would have done to him, but the fact that it took more than two minutes prep time indicated to him that Guylan had set him up with their dueling location, and that didn't sit right with him. When dealing with an enemy you intended to kill, who cared about fair? But in a duel between two people measuring their skills? As far as Cyrus was concerned, Guylan was a cheating bastard he didn't want to deal with again if he could avoid it.

"You keep avoiding me. Our fight on Friday was interrupted, Obsidian! There was no winner."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "I could have killed you with my death magic and turned you into a pile of ectoplasmic goo. What's this contention about who's the winner? And on _top_ of that, you picked a location for the duel where you'd already prepped a ritual! That's fighting dirty, asshole."

Guylan scowled, but looked slightly confused or surprised. Was it because Cyrus wasn't letting the human push him around like last week? Or was he used to getting his way all the time? "Rituals weren't included in the rules for the duel, and you used death magic! _That's_ dirty!"

Cyrus snorted. "Well, even if we were both fighting dirty, I still could have turned you into a pile of sludge."

"Not if my ritual didn't kill you first!"

Green eyes narrowed. "So the ritual _was_ intended to kill me."

The crowd watching the show fell silent, and Guylan's eyes widened and twitched to the side to gauge the audience's reaction. No one was impressed. If you were going to kill someone at Shikaan, do it in a way that it couldn't be tied to you. 'Airing the dirty laundry' was something you _did not do_ at Shikaan. Killing wasn't completely looked down on, but if someone started to get 'known' for killing other students to solve all their problems, then they might find themselves poisoned or portkeyed into a volcano in their sleep.

"In regard to who is the more skilled or powerful human," Cyrus began, senses open in case Guylan decided to attack him again by surprise, "I could care less. You challenged me, and I fought you. If you're still not happy with your 'measurements,'" he paused here, wondering if people would get the reference to Tara's comment about Guylan's dick size. From the snickers that spread, they did. Probably thanks to the gossip mill. "Then you'll have to find someone else to compare yourself to. I'm not fighting you again, as it's obvious you're willing to kill to keep your 'reputation'," he said sarcastically.

Guylan's eyes narrowed with fury. "You little-" a spell came flying at Cyrus, and he reflected it with a powerful shield. Only, it didn't reflect and instead mixed with the shield and exploded in a flash of light, sending a concussive force in Cyrus's direction. Trying to keep his feet, he was unprepared for Guylan to appear right in front of him with a dagger in hand. Before he could finish the attack with his dagger, Xanthir appeared in front of him with his sword out and blocked it before using sheer physical force to push the enhanced human away.

Guylan glared. "Why are you interfering, werewolf? The human can't fight his own battles?"

Xanthir glared at him. "You have proved yourself a dishonorable person, so I am in my full rights to protect an ally of the Adelphos Pack."

Murmurs spread through the hall like wild fire, and Cyrus frowned and looked at the whispering people in confusion. What?

Guylan's stupefied expression was quite amusing, though. "Ally of your pack?"

Xanthir's eyes were glowing in his anger, and he growled, "That's right. So if you kill Cyrus, there will be consequences."

The human looked pissed. "How the fuck did some no-name human become the ally of a werewolf pack?"

Cyrus watched the exchange in confusion.

Xanthir smirked. "By being more valuable than you are."

Ouch. Cyrus grimaced. That was a low blow. When the hell had this happened, anyway? He was a Healer for the Adelphos clan weeks ago, and Xanthir hadn't stepped in then. What had changed? Was there something he didn't know about being the ally of a pack? Probably. Maybe he _should_ have asked Remus more about it. Not that the other werewolf would know the politics of Shikaan enough to answer his current slew of questions. He'd have to ask Xanthir later.

Guylan scowled, but sheathed his dagger and walked away. The students gave him a wide berth, and Cyrus watched curiously as some of the non-humans hissed or bared their teeth at him as he walked away. Huh, that was interesting.

Once the tension in the hall began to fade, Cyrus relaxed his guard and turned to Xanthir, who was watching Guylan until the human turned a corner. "What was that all about?" he asked the werewolf.

Xanthir turned to look at him, his eyes slowly losing their glow. "We're allies now. I'm in my full rights to help you," the werewolf said, as if that explained it all.

Cyrus frowned. "But why didn't you help me before? I mean, we were friends."

Xanthir scratched the back of his head, ruffling the spiky orange locks. "Uh, it's a little complicated. As friends, I can't help unless you ask otherwise I would be implying you can't take care of yourself, but as an ally and because of your… situation with the pack, I _have_ to. I have no choice."

Cyrus didn't really get it, but he figured it must be one of those… Other Realm things.

They continued on to the Main Hall for lunch and met up with Tara at their usual table. Cyrus caught sight of that guy he'd helped earlier sitting alone at one of the tables and would have waved, but the vampire wasn't looking in his direction. Shrugging to himself, he plopped down into his seat and sighed, pulling the menu closer to himself. Quickly tapping the first thing that looked good, he put the menu back into the middle of the table and took a long drink from his water and lemonade.

Tara was quick to accost him once he'd settled. "So, what happened in the hall, eh? I was just talkin' with a friend before you came in here and she said some shit went down with Guylan."

Cyrus sighed. "He tried to pick a fight. I told him to fuck off. Taunted him, and then the idiot let it slip that he was trying to kill me with that ritual he used during the duel."

Tara's grin was positively feral. "You tricked him into admitting that? Good jooob, Cy-Cy. Everyone's going to think he's a total noob now." She snickered.

The human frowned. "Well, that wasn't really my intention. I just wanted him to leave me alone."

Tara barked out a laugh. "You never intend for anything to happen, Cyrus. It just _does._" She giggled, eyes glowing red as she sipped her glass of blood. "Ha! I can't believe he was stupid enough to admit that! And the stalemate coupled with how horribly he's taking it just eats away at his reputation. He might lose a few allies over this. If you have the chance, fuck him over good. He's not going to live this down – he'll be after your ass." She slapped him on the pack with a proud grin before a thoughtful, predatory look crossed her face. "Maybe I'll do a little bit of huntin' tonight… No one tries to kill my Cy-Cy."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "What am I, a pet?"

She grinned and ruffled his hair, making irritating purring sounds by fluttering her tongue. Xanthir laughed at the look on Cyrus's face, which wasn't a pout. It wasn't.

"So, I heard a lot of other shit happened this weekend, too. Xan filled me in. You've been a busy little bee. Got your guardian a contract with the Adelphos Pack." She whistled. "Nice job." Her humor dissipated slightly as she leaned in conspiratorially. "So, what did you find out about the poisonings? People have started asking questions. Werewolves keep dropping like flies, and the Aengar are being swamped with poison cases that they're having a bitch of a time dealing with. It's like no poison they've ever seen before. From what I've been hearing in the Bast clan, they're contemplating sharing their information and turning it into an Other Realm matter. The politics with that are a bitch, though. I mean, making this global… as soon as two species have acknowledged it in the Other Realm Council, the shit has officially hit the fan."

Cyrus felt like his brain was spinning. "Huh?" was his intelligent response. "Other Realm Council?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "You really do need to pay more attention to Other Realm politics, Cyrus."

The human moved his plate out of the way so he could thump his forehead on the table. "I knooow. I'm going to go to summer school somewhere to learn this shit."

Tara 'aah'ed. "That's smart. Then you won't feel so stupid all the time."

He tilted his head to the side to glare at her.

_-Toki Mirage-_

This was the second most hellish chapter I have ever edited in my entire life. :P The Trial was the worst, hands down Hahaha. Marms and Roos gangbanged me (Roos dared me to say it rofl) for three hours and then another two hours on top of that. So, suffice to say, this chapter has Golden Roos Stamp of Approval. I made her squeal. XD Mwhaha. Two words: Tara's pet. (Quote: "Cyrus is Tara's pet, and our slave.")

Anywho, might not be able to update again unless I procrastinate A LOT. :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Thanks for reading! (And reviewing, to those who do.)


	25. Chapter TwentyFive: Out the Window

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty-Five

_oOo_

"Now, as you know, we've been focusing on efficient channeling of magic from obvious casting sites such as the hands, and we only touched on other casting areas for a short period so you would be aware of the possibilities. Some of you used that opportunity to expand your wandless capabilities, while for others it was still beyond your current potential. We will now be returning to body casting for the week before and the week after study break," Catchpool explained briskly, her chin-length blond bob swishing back and forth as she paced slowly in front of the class. Her glasses flashed in the magic lights as she spun on her high heels and crossed in front of the group of students again.

"We will separate the class into two halves. Students who have studied body casting on their own time and feel comfortable with basic charms or curses and want to move on to more difficult castings, go to the far corner with the mats. The other half will be the rest of the class, and you will meet with my TA at the practice dummies." She stopped and eyed the group with sharp eyes. "Well? What are you waiting for?" she snapped.

As class burst into a shuffle of movement, Cyrus followed her across the large classroom to the mats. Any classes that required practical application of spells usually had no desks, or had a couple tables and chairs that folded up to rest against the walls. The room itself was large enough to be one of the many training rooms available to students at Shikaan, but as it was Catchpool's personal classroom, no one was allowed to use it without her or her TA present.

After all, Shikaan had the space, so why couldn't each teacher have their own room and attached office? The total population of the school never increased by a large margin, either, as the intake of new students was carefully monitored and screened, much like a university.

"Good. There are not too many of you," Catchpool commented as she looked over the seven people that had followed her to the mats. "We are going to be learning how to cast a full body shield today. There are quite a few variants in existence, but the version we will be using is the hardest to cast with a wand and the easiest to cast wandlessly. However, the _yewenalin_ shield is not to be confused with the _borrire contego_, as the latter is more of a bubble shield that is relatively easy to cast but hard to maintain due to magical expenditure."

So, it was different than the full body shield he often used? "Why is the… _yewenalin_ shield easier wandlessly?"

She eyed him, and Cyrus felt uneasy under the focus of that intelligence. "How much do you remember from the beginning of the year when I explained basic wand and wandless theory?" she asked everyone, and Cyrus relaxed slightly as her eyes left him.

"That with a wand the spell is… executed through the runes in the magic?" a female fae asked, her voice carrying a lilting quality. Cyrus couldn't remember her name, but he _did_ know that you didn't want to be subjected to her voice magic. Her 'family' specialized in them, and she could do things with sound vibration that he had never even thought possible.

"Essentially. Runes are the conduit for ordered magic. They take the raw magical energy and bend it in a certain way to get a specific result. When a spell is created and cast for the first time, it is imprinted onto the magic of the world. It becomes part of an 'archive' so to speak. That is how we are able to able to cast spells. A word and wand movement are associated with the rune matrix, and intent plays little part in the casting." At Cyrus's bewildered expression, she smiled and continued. "Have you never wondered why, once you learn to cast a spell for the first time, it works almost every other time? Once our subconscious mind finds the pathway to the correct spell imprint, and associates the words and wand movements with that spell, we will almost always be able to find that same path again. It is one of the many reasons why ordered magic cannot be learned without some form of tutelage.

"However, unordered magic _can_. This magic is completely intent-based and relies on fine control and direct manipulation of magic. A child could learn unordered magic on their own if they believed anything was possible. However, as most magical children are either part of magical families here in Other Realm, or are conditioned to believe magic is false in non-magical communities in Human Realm, few of these 'prodigal children' ever surface. An example in Other Realm would be Karatys."

The six other students all gasped or made some noise of surprise or traded grins with each other. "Didn't he grow up with a magical family, though?" another student asked.

"Yes and no. If you recall, the demon's parents were killed during the last war, and he was left in the deepest woods of the Kantari region for quite some time before some hunters stumbled upon him nearly thirty years later. He was orphaned at a young enough age to not understand how ordered magic worked in the least, but old enough to understand that his family had done amazing things with magic. Which led him to believe that he could achieve the same things. And the rest is history. To this day he is still incapable of casting ordered magic, but he makes up for it with direct manipulation. He has done things that many spell crafters believed impossible due to his greater understanding of the behaviors of magic."

The voice mage was frowning. "How come we haven't read this in the books on wandless magic in the library?"

Catchpool looked amused. "Most of those texts are at least a hundred years old. You should always check the date of the books you learn from, as some are out of date or rendered obsolete from recent research, and Shikaan never disposes of knowledge. What I've just told to you is explained in greater detail in a book that is a joint project between me and the other two leading researchers in the field. It is currently jumping through the hoops of publishing and should be out by next school year."

Cyrus hummed thoughtfully. "Who would be a Human Realm example?" he asked.

Some of the other students looked interested, while some didn't appear to care at all.

"The most well-known is Merlin." Cyrus's eyes widened, and Catchpool's lips formed a small smirk. "I'm sure you know he used to use a staff for magic?" Cyrus nodded, listening intently. Accurate information on Merlin was sketchy at best besides the fact that he seemed to have known the Founders of Hogwarts. "In reality, the staff had no magical properties at all. As a child, he had seen magic cast with staves, which were popular before the techniques for wand crafting were perfected. Before then, they could just as easily have blown up in your face rather than cast a spell. However, before he could reach proper age for training, he was separated from his community of magic users and forced to reside in a muggle village. With his natural inclination to magic, much like Karatys, he crafted himself a staff that he had seen other wizards use and taught himself unordered magic."

Cyrus couldn't help but grin. So there was a reason Merlin had been so amazing.

Catchpool's smile was much more reserved. "Now that the history lesson is over… any more questions before we begin learning to cast?" No one said anything, so she continued. "Very well. Today we will be learning how to manipulate magic much like our bodies sweat. The goal is to expel magic from every pore of your body but not have it go farther than the surface of your skin. The body shield we are learning is easily hidden and difficult to detect unless you come into direct contact with the person. It is a technique that makes it much more difficult for an enemy to wound you with physical force, but will not deflect magic unless you absolutely perfect the last step. Today, we will be learning the first step, and unless you accomplish that to my satisfaction we will not be progressing further."

She motioned for the students to spread out and form a half-circle, and Cyrus obediently got into line as well. This sounded _very_ useful.

"The first step is coating your entire body with magic without glowing. If you glow, you are wasting energy. The only time magic should be spent with this spell is if the shield has to reflect the kinetic force of a blow. Now, try."

Cyrus's eyelids drooped as he focused inward, expelling his magic from his entire body in tiny increments, careful to control every bit of it so nothing was wasted. It took him a few minutes to get the hang of it, but he was good enough at manipulating his magic that it wasn't too hard.

How come death magic couldn't be as easy to control?

"Very good, Mr. Obsidian," Catchpool said, and he opened his eyes all the way to focus on her without releasing his control of the magic. "I thought you would be good at this," she commented, poking his skin with her fingertips as if to test something. "Good. Even distribution. I'd say you're ready for the second step. You need to channel enough magic into the layer and compact it so that nothing can pierce through."

Cyrus frowned and closed his eyes, pouring more magic out and compacting it to try to make it… harder. It was hard to put to words exactly how it felt to manipulate the energy.

A fist hit him in the chest and he lost his balance, putting a foot back to catch himself. Eyes snapping open at the same moment, he gaped at his teacher in surprise. "What the- Why did you do that?"

She looked particularly smug. "Very good for your first attempt. The goal is for your magic to be able to completely protect you from any blunt force. The third step is to be able to protect yourself from fine blunt force – such as blades. The fourth step is reflecting magic. Keep practicing the second step for next class, and I'll see if you can learn the next-"

"Professor Catchpool?" a voice interrupted. Cyrus turned to look at the TA, a guy who had graduated from Shikaan a while ago and was working on his Mastery in Wandless Magic.

"Yes?" she asked, turning to her TA with a raised eyebrow, unimpressed with the interruption.

The TA had the grace to look uncomfortable. "It's… Pyrneihm again."

Her professional expression leaked a bit of annoyance. "Again? I don't see why he is still taking this course. He should have dropped it months ago."

"He… works very hard, though. Even though he's still not getting it."

But Catchpool wasn't as sympathetic as her TA. "He is already failing the class. He should have transferred into another course he could have succeeded in instead of failing at something for which he has no aptitude." She crossed her arms under her breasts and tapped a finger irritably.

"Perhaps if he found a tutor?"

She snorted. "There are few students in the upper years of my classes that would be able to help him, and those who are able would not want to."

The TA looked at Cyrus. "What about someone in the lower years?"

Catchpool followed his gaze, frowned, and then turned her almighty stare on her TA. "Obsidian? You think he would be capable of teaching that lost cause?"

Cyrus wasn't sure he wanted to be angry about them talking about him like he wasn't there or to feel bad for the way they were talking about this 'Pyrneihm' fellow.

"Obsidian has the natural aptitude for-"

"Natural aptitude very rarely equates with good teaching ability, Hailan. Though…" Her eyes narrowed and she looked at Cyrus again. "There is... _that_." The TA, Hailan, looked lost, but Cyrus had a feeling he knew what she was talking about. His magic sensitivity. "Very well. Mr. Obsidian, would you be willing to tutor a student who has grossly fallen behind in the course material?"

Cyrus wasn't sure he wanted to devote his already little free time to tutoring somebody. He didn't even have time to research Other Realm politics for Merlin's sake, or look into his magic sensitivity in more depth, two things that he'd been wanting to get around to for months now but was unable to with homework, werewolf healings, Necromancy… it was just never ending. "Uh… Why hasn't he gotten a tutor before now?"

"He doesn't have the funds. His education here was prepaid many years ago."

The human frowned. Prepaid? Why would it be… and he had few funds. But that didn't make any sense. "Then how is he supposed to pay for a tutor?" Not that Cyrus even needed the money.

Catchpool still had that annoyed expression on her face. "I will pay you myself if you will agree to helping him and get him off my back. I have already reached the end of my patience and Hailan isn't much better."

Cyrus was beginning to feel distinctly awkward about the level of verbal bashing going on here. Wasn't stuff like this supposed to be… Weren't teachers supposed to be professional and not talk about this kind of stuff with other students? She didn't look like she cared at all. Maybe it was an Other Realm thing.

Or a Shikaan thing.

"I… don't really need money."

"Then I'm sure you can figure something out to trade." She said it as if it was obvious and he was stupid for not thinking of it himself.

Cyrus kept his mouth shut about that, though. "Right."

She smirked and motioned to the TA. "Bring Pyrneihm," she ordered, walking Cyrus away from the group of still-practicing students and to an empty corner. "If you can, try to teach him a method of learning wandless spells that doesn't require the constant help and supervision of another person," she said before walking back to her still-practicing students.

Cyrus looked over to see where Hailan had disappeared to only to pale at the sight of the demon that the TA was bringing over.

No fucking way. _Yalmireth?_

He was cursed. There was no other explanation for the shit he had to deal with. _Damnit_.

The TA happily left them both in their corner of the room, and Cyrus nervously licked his lips and wondered how he was supposed to deal with this one. Yalmireth wouldn't meet his eyes, his face perfectly blank. He put up a privacy and silencing ward in case this went south, fast.

"Uh, so Hailan said you're still having trouble with wandless magic?"

Yalmireth nodded silently, and his shoulders drooped slightly even as he refused to meet Cyrus's eyes.

"Did um… you've been trying to keep the magical flow steadier?"

The demon nodded again.

"Hasn't helped much then… huh…" Could this get any more awkward? "Well? Are you still not talking to me?"

Yalmireth finally looked at him, and the storm of emotions had turned his steel-gray eyes a darker shade. "Am I _allowed _to speak to you again?"

The human frowned. "What are you talking about? You could have talked to me whenever you wanted, but you-"

"You invoked _garvich taneshka_. I could not initiate contact with you unless you opened negotiations."

Now Cyrus was _really_ confused. "What are you talking about? What's a gavish tanishko?"

And now Yalmireth looked as confused as he felt. "You… you do not know?" They stared at each other for a long moment before the demon frowned. "It is… a demon custom. When one wishes to cut all ties with an ally, they break and burn the table around which the allies convene."

Cyrus stared at him in shock. _What?_ He- Yalmireth- _what?_ "B-but, I just… I was just angry!" Yalmireth's expression was carefully blank. "The table… it was just an accident. And then I was angry, so I lit it on fire and conjured another one to replace it." How had something so seemingly innocent meant…

"It was not your intention to initiate _garvich teneshka?_" Yalmireth asked him carefully, as if he didn't quite believe it.

Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest. "No. I was just pissed at you for being a jerk. I wasn't trying to terminate our friendship or anything." What a clusterfuck of a misunderstanding.

"I… see." They stared at each other for a long, awkward silence.

"So… why did you explode like that anyway?"

Yalmireth twitched. "Are you and Ashawyn still dating?"

Cyrus wanted to smack his head against the wall with how subtle that wasn't. "What does that have to do with anything? Do you hate Ashawyn or something? Is that why you flipped out on me after you walked in on that stupid kiss?" Now Cyrus was confused. Yalmireth hadn't been avoiding him because he was jealous or had a crush on Cyrus or something? Or was that still the case?

Yalmireth looked torn. "It… it's complicated."

Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, explain it. We've had enough fucking misunderstandings."

Yalmireth flushed slightly and looked down and to the side. He muttered something under his breath.

Cyrus frowned. "What was that?"

"I was… angry."

Well _duh_. "What for?"

Yalmireth looked very uncomfortable as he looked away, his blank mask beginning to crack. "I… well… I… I've never had many friends. And I just… he's a jerk. He's just interested in… in… _sex_, and… he'd make a terrible… he's a _jerk_."

Cyrus really didn't know what to say to that. "You don't even know Ashawyn," he said flatly.

Yalmireth twitched. "I know-" he began angrily before cutting himself off and taking a shaky, calming breath, so many emotions churning behind his eyes they looked like pools of gray water. "I know his type. I've… They find the most powerful, the prettiest… _conquests_. People like us are nothing but conquests to them. And once they get bored, they just…" His voice cracked, and he crossed his arms protectively across his chest. "They just leave," he said, glistening eyes meeting Cyrus's with a frankness and bone-deep belief that what he said was the truth. "He just left. And he didn't do it nicely. No, I had to find Ashawyn fucking my roommate in my _own bed_."

Cyrus's jaw just dropped and he stared at the demon in shock. "_What?_"

"Later I found out that he and my roommate had been… _fucking_ for nearly a month before I caught them. And he didn't look the least bit guilty when he saw me watching and he just kept going until he- until he'd been _satisfied_. And when my roommate looked at me- he looked guilty, but obviously not guilty enough to not fuck my boyfr-" His voice cracked and he turned partly away, obviously wanting to hide his face from Cyrus but not wanting the entire class to see him either.

Cyrus just couldn't believe his ears. "Are you serious?" he asked softly. Yalmireth nodded and wiped his eyes furiously. "What… how did you two even meet?"

The demon let out a shuddering breath. "We went to the same private school until he graduated. I was in my final year when it turned from good friends to… more. He'd visit on the weekends…" He wiped his eyes again and crossed his arms in a slouch.

Cyrus frowned. But… when Yalmireth had burst in on Cyrus and Ashawyn kissing in his dorm room, Ashawyn hadn't acted like he knew the demon. But at the same time… Yalmireth didn't seem like the kind of person to lie about something like this. "How did you afford to go to private school if you can't afford a tutor?"

Yalmireth seemed to droop even more, steel-gray eyes turning to dull, darker shade. "My father died when I was thirteen. He was rather rich, though, so he'd already paid for my future tuition at Gilligan's – the private school – as well as Shikaan, but I can't access my inheritance until I'm an adult. He never even asked me if I wanted to come here, so now I'm stuck, and I'm failing wandless, and some of my other classes aren't going well either, and-" His voice choked off in a suppressed sob. "And then _he_ had to turn up," he muttered bitterly, eyes flashing with anger.

Cyrus winced. That sounded… really shitty. And the silence was really awkward. What do you say to that, huh? Try to sympathize? "I understand how you-"

"Understand? You don't understand!" Yalmireth snapped, his normally soft voice turning sharp and biting.

Okay, perhaps that hadn't been the smartest thing to say. "No, I meant- Just give me a minute. I don't know what you went through, but I'm just… trying to say that you know, my life hasn't… my parents were murdered when I was a baby and I was forced to live with my relatives for most of… my childhood. They… my bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs until… until I grew too big to fit." The last of which wasn't true, but he wasn't giving Yalmireth any connections to Hogwarts. And… and it was only fair that after Yalmireth spilled his guts about something horrible that happened to him, that Cyrus shared, right?

He had no idea, really, but the way that Yalmireth stopped glaring at him and seemed to be listening was a good sign. Right?

"You're not having any problems in school, though," Yalmireth bit out bitterly.

Cyrus licked his lips nervously. "I'm not a book worm or anything – I work my ass off – but do you have any idea the shit I've dealt with in the past year? I mean, I just got thrown into Shikaan before even knowing what Other Realm _was_, let alone all this political shit I should know, my death magic's been going batshit ever since I awoke it, I've been dragged into a vampire Trial, nearly been eaten by zombies, molested, someone here's trying to _kill_ me, and on top of that I'm sick with something even Svea can't make heads or tails of!" Cyrus found himself making angry motions with his arms and forced them to return to his sides, letting out a frustrated breath of air. Damnit. Now he was all worked up again. He'd been trying to _forget_ all that shit.

Yalmireth was looking at him very oddly. "You… wow."

Cyrus snorted. "Not even half of it."

"You were molested? Is that why you… kept flinching?"

Cyrus scowled at the memory and nodded jerkily. "Yeah. It was… yeah. Tara… helped."

The demon nodded slightly, but Cyrus could see the tension slowly start draining out of him. "Are you… still going to date Ashawyn?"

Cyrus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I have no clue, honestly. Maybe he's changed since he…"

Yalmireth scowled. "I doubt that."

The human gave him a look. "Are you going to flip out on me again?"

Yalmireth had the grace to blush and look embarrassed. "I'm… sorry. For exploding, and… I thought you had initiated _garvich taneshka_, otherwise I would have come and talked to you earlier."

Cyrus sighed. "I don't know any of these demon customs, so next time I do something unwittingly, talk to me about it first before assuming that I get it, alright?"

The demon acknowledged it with a small nod. "Are we… friends again?"

Cyrus smiled. "Yeah. Now, on to the tutoring. I don't want any money," he said, seeing that Yalmireth was about to open his mouth. "But is there something that we could trade instead? Like, I teach you something, you teach me something? Or if you have anything else…"

Yalmireth tilted his head to the side in thought. "Well… you seem to know nothing of demon customs, which is something I am rather familiar with."

A grin spread across Cyrus's face. "That's perfect! How about we make a study time? Let's see… Today's Tuesday… I have Charms after this class, but maybe after that? That way it's still fresh in our minds. I'll teach you for an hour, and then you teach me or an hour, and if we want more time we can just schedule more." And then Cyrus remembered that he had spring break under little red man's abusive stick and a bunch of homework to finish before then. "Wait, crap. I'm going to be away for study break next week and I really need all the time I have to catch up before then. Can we start after that?"

"If that works better for you."

Cyrus smiled, and then the bell signaling the end of class sounded. "I gotta go to my next class. See you at dinner?"

The demon nodded in acknowledgement.

_oOo_

When Yalmireth joined them at the table on which Tara had long since staked a claim for their use later that night, there was a long, awkward silence before conversation picked up again. Well, until Tara decided she couldn't wait until later to do her customary interroga- er, 'information gathering.'

"So, you two finally kiss and make up?"

Cyrus choked on his lemonade in surprise, and he could tell by Tara's smirk that she'd timed it that way on purpose. He and Yalmireth traded looks over the table, a dark gray blush covering the demon's cheeks. Seeing that Yalmireth wasn't going to start explaining, he set down his drink with a sigh. "Well… yeah."

She raised an eyebrow at his rather lacking explanation. "So… how? You finally pull the sticks out of your asses?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "No. _Apparently_, there's this demon custom… thing. Basically… fight plus breaking table plus burning broken table equals a null friendship. Right?" he looked at Yalmireth questioningly.

The demon nodded. "_Garvich taneshka._ It is a rather rare custom among my people, but all children learn about it."

Tara's eyebrows rose and she leaned forward curiously. "Really? I've never heard of it before. How's the whole custom work?"

Xanthir snickered. "What's this? The know-it-all Library TA _Tara_ doesn't know everything about everything?"

Tara hit him over the back of the head, driving his face into his spaghetti and meatballs with the force of it. The werewolf had adopted a fascination for Human Realm cuisine in the past couple weeks, though Cyrus had no idea why. "Do I fuckin' look like a demon culture expert, asswipe?"

Xanthir pulled his head out of his lunch and grinned through the sauce covering his face. "Pussy cat."

"_Figrish_."

"Fairy."

She smacked him again, this time sending him flying across the floor and crashing into someone's chair. She watched with an amused smirk as he had to profusely apologize to the angry goblin whose chair he'd crashed into in order to keep those gnarly hands from snapping his neck.

Cyrus grimaced.

"So," Tara continued, as if nothing had happened in between. "What about this custom?"

Yalmireth, who had been watching the werewolf with a grimace himself, turned his attention to the rather volatile vampire. "Um… If one wishes to completely cut ties with an ally or friend, they… invoke _garvich taneshka_. After doing so, it is only the invoker who may reestablish ties."

Her lips formed a little 'o'. "So that's why you never talked to Cyrus after that?" When he nodded, she burst into laughter, smacking Cyrus on the back. "Y-you never c-cease to get yourself into this shit, do you?" she got out in between her explosive laughter. "The Obsidian Curse strikes again!"

Cyrus glared at her, but she remained completely unaffected as she continued to howl in laughter, finding far more amusement in the situation than was really necessary. Some of the other students in the hall even started giving their table weird looks.

The human sank in his seat, glaring sullenly at Tara, wondering if she would pick on him less if they weren't so comfortable with each other. He and Yalmireth didn't have that kind of… rapport. Hadn't gone through the same trials through fire that he, Tara, and Xanthir had experienced.

The buzz of his magi-com in his pocket disrupted his train of thoughts, and he pulled it out with some measure of dread. It was either Remus, who had finally gotten his hands on a magi-com, or Ashawyn. Everybody else who would phone him was currently sitting at the table with him.

It was a text, thankfully.

_Hey Cy. Want to get together_

_tonight? I know you're busy_

_with homework, but everyone_

_deserves a night off. :)_

_Ash_

Cyrus stared at the message for a moment before snapping the device closed and slipping it back into his pocket. What the hell _was_ he going to do about Ashawyn? He'd been trying not to think about it since yesterday, but now he couldn't avoid the issue any longer. The fae had cheated on Yalmireth a few years ago. Had Ashawyn changed since then? Was he already cheating on Cyrus too? How much did the fae even care, anyway? They'd had sex a couple times, yeah, but apparently the human sex drive didn't match up to that of a fae. Or maybe it was just Cyrus.

And then there was that project that he had agreed to help Ashawyn out with in just under three weeks. Fuck.

"Tara, can I talk to you about something?"

The vampire turned her intelligent, assessing eyes on him and stared him down for a moment before nodding and standing. "We'll be back in a bit, guys."

Xanthir, who had sat back down again looking not just a little ruffled, blinked. "Where you going?"

Tara gave him a look. "If I wanted you to know, I'd tell you." She grabbed Cyrus, who had stood as well, by the arm and pulled them into the shadow of the table. The world spun in darkness for a moment before Cyrus found himself in a room he was only vaguely familiar with. Tara's room. He'd been in it once after the debacle at Shelby's Blood Bath the night Dalesh was killed.

"What's up?" she asked, sitting on her desk and swinging her legs. Cyrus just barely avoided being flashed, as her skirt was so short today.

"I… well… Okay, it's all kind of fucked up. I talked to Yalmireth, and apparently he and Ashawyn used to date until Ashawyn cheated on him."

Her eyebrows rose. "Oh daaaymn." She laughed. "Poor bastard. So you're wondering whether he's cheating on you, too?"

Cyrus shrugged. "Well, it crossed my mind. Really, I don't know what I want to do with the information. Confront him? Leave it? And then there's Yalmireth, again. What if the demon gets pissed off if I just ignore it and keep dating the guy?"

Tara made a thoughtful sound. "First off, you gotta realize that most fae and faerie are not faithful to one partner. Their races are highly polyamorous, even more so than any other species in Other Realm. Chance is he's already fucked someone while he was dating you, unless you've been having sex with him every night."

Cyrus grimaced. "Er, no. We haven't."

She nodded. "In fae culture it's odd to restrict oneself to one partner if there are others that will satisfy as well."

The human scowled and ran a hand through his hair pensively. "How come you don't know as much about demons?"

"I'm never gonna live this one down, am I," she drawled sarcastically, glaring at him. "I'm familiar with demon culture on a superficial level. Fae culture, on the other hand, I've had more experience with." She grinned. "They throw a mean party."

Cyrus felt like smacking his head against the wall. Of course. They partied. So did vampires. "Right. So, if you were me, what would you do?"

Tara shrugged. "Depends what you want out of the relationship. Demons are very loyal, to the point of obsession. Polyamory in demon culture is about as rare as it is in human culture. Fae and vampires are far more flexible sexually. They… the best way to describe it is this: they cultivate sexual relationships like humans do friendships. They have many, and each has its own flavor, flaws, and flame."

Cyrus stared out her large window thoughtfully. He was attracted to Ashawyn, yes. He found the fae very hot, and the sex was good, but… Well, sex wasn't everything, and he didn't even know the guy as well as he knew his friends, and neither Tara nor Xanthir were terribly forthcoming about anything personal. A sigh of annoyance escaped him before he could contain it.

Tara chuckled, drawing his attention back to her. "You look so pensive! Why not just take the sex and leave it at that?"

He scowled. "Because I'm not like you." At her insulted look, he hastily continued, "I mean, maybe I'm too human to date a fae."

She scowled, but didn't call him on it. "Well, if you're going to survive dating someone outside of your species, you're going to have to learn to be more flexible. This'll be a good learning experience for you!" She gave him a condescending, amused grin.

He glared, but she was completely unaffected. "How do I talk to him about something like this?"

She made a thoughtful sound. "He should have known better, choosing to date a human. It may not have even crossed his mind that you'd be angry with him. My suggestion? If you ask him about it, be prepared for the more likely answer. If you decide to leave it, then you still get great sex whenever you want it."

But that wasn't what he wanted. He'd already come to the decision that sex wasn't high enough on his priorities list that he would settle with a… fuck buddy, as Tara would call it. He scowled, irritated with the whole situation. Maybe he should take this as a lesson – don't date a fae unless you're sure you're the only one sleeping in their bed.

Tara patted him on the shoulder, a small smile on her face. "You'll figure it out. Just use your head and try to be open minded. You're in Other Realm now."

He nodded and let her pull him back into the shadows to return to lunch. Well, at least now he knew that it was basically a given that Ashawyn was cheating on him. Now he just had to make sure.

_oOo_

By the time classes had finished for the day, Cyrus still wasn't sure how he was going to approach the topic of Ashawyn cheating. He'd never been good at diffusing potentially disastrous situations. You'd think with the amount of them he'd been tossed into recently that he would have gotten a little better at it…

"Hey Cyrus! Were you waiting long?" Ashawyn asked as he came to a stop in front of the restaurant Cyrus had told the fae to meet him at.

The human shook his head and let Ashawyn gently lead him inside with a coaxing hand on the small of his back. He watched the fae's handsome, good-natured expressions as he spoke to the waitress in an unfamiliar language and got her to give them a seat by the faerie lights fountain. She blushed a bright red as she led them to their table and gave them menus before bustling away. Cyrus couldn't help but feel just a little annoyed at how easily his boyfriend had charmed the waitress, but then he could just imagine Tara smacking him over the back of the head and telling him he was being stupid.

He sipped his water and drew lines on the fogged surface of the glass. Even if he was being stupid, it didn't get rid of the iron ball sinking in his gut.

"How were your classes today? You get piled under more homework?" Ashawyn asked.

Cyrus nodded. "I have a lot to get done before the break. I'm keeping on top of it so far, but…" He shrugged. The only reason he was here and not doing homework was because the 'what if' kept eating away at him. He needed to know.

A hand reached out and grasped his own, keeping him from doodling more lines on his glass. "You alright?" Ashawyn asked. When Cyrus continued to stare at his glass of water, fingertips caressed his skin. "Did I do something?"

Cyrus told himself to stop being such a pansy and just get it over with. "I heard something that I'm not exactly sure I like."

Ashawyn frowned, looking honestly bewildered. "What was it?"

Cyrus wetted his dry lips. "I have a friend, Yalmireth, who said he dated for you a while, and that you cheated on him." Was that too blunt?

The fae blinked slowly, eyes searching his own. "What is cheating?"

Cyrus felt dizzy for a moment with shock. Did the fae honestly have no idea? Wanting to be a hundred percent sure of Ashawyn's honesty, he sent healing magic into the hand in his own to monitor heart beat. While not fool-proof, it was the least obvious way for him to tell, as unordered magic was much harder to detect and trace.

The fae's heart beat steadily.

Cyrus resisted the urge to sigh. Why couldn't the fae have just been lying and made his life easier? Then he could dump the guy and leave already. "In human and demon culture, it's customary for two people engaged in a sexual or romantic relationship to be loyal to one another."

Ashawyn blinked at him, icy blue eyes glowing slightly in the faerie lights of the fountain. "But I am loyal."

Cyrus shook his head. "No, I mean… faithful." When the fae continued to stare at him blankly, he spelled it out. "Only having sex with that one person."

The fae's eyes widened in shock. "What?" he asked incredulously. "Wha- how- but- that's unnatural!"

It was Cyrus's turn to stare. "Unnatural?"

The fae nodded emphatically. "Yes! What fae stays with one person for the duration of their relationship? That's just… not done."

Cyrus continued to stare. "What about your parents when they had you?"

Ashawyn laughed. "They chose to bond to have children, but not to stay… 'faithful' to that one person. They are loyal to each other as spouses, but they have many other relations." He smiled boyishly, the faerie lights showing off his handsome features in a good light.

Cyrus didn't like how the fae was making him feel like he was the weird one. Was the species gap this large? He wanted to pull his hand out of the fae's, but if he did, he wouldn't have a lie detector anymore. "Ashawyn," he said seriously as the fae began to calm down. "While fidelity is uncommon among your people, it's an important- it's a _fundamental_ aspect of human culture. Have you been having sex with other people while we were dating?"

The fae sobered abruptly, as if only suddenly realizing where this conversation was going. His hand tightened in Cyrus's, and his pulse raced under his cool skin.

"There's no right answer to that question," the fae said quietly.

Cyrus's eyes slipped closed. So the fae had. Carefully, he tried to remove his hand from Ashawyn's, but the fae wouldn't let go. He frowned, opening his eyes again in confusion.

Ashawyn was watching him with serious eyes, foregoing his usual carefree and boyish good humor. "That can't be it. You're just going to leave?" the fae asked, cold expression cracking a bit to show the sadness and hurt beneath.

As if Cyrus wasn't confused enough already. "What do you want me to do? Just ignore the fact that you were having sex with other people while you were dating me? You should have found out more about human sexual customs before you started dating one."

Ashawyn frowned. "I didn't think it would be that different. And since when is the entire responsibility of this on my shoulders alone? Surely you could have found out more about _my_ culture in turn?"

Cyrus bit back a nasty comment at that. As much as Cyrus didn't want to admit it, Ashawyn had a point. "Why did you decide to date me, then?"

Ashawyn tilted his head to the side curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Why, if you're not doing the normal human boyfriend thing, did you want to date me?"

The fae stared at him. "The sex is great, of course."

Cyrus cleared his throat. "Yeah, but is it any more than that?"

Ashawyn seemed genuinely perplexed. "I… enjoy hanging out with you?"

"…"

"Uh… the thing you do with your magic is hot?"

Cyrus frowned. "What? What thing with the magic."

Ashawyn grinned. "You know. When we had sex the first time, and you did that… magic thing."

Cyrus's eyes widened slightly as he remembered the whole magic-sucking incident. "You found that hot?"

"Very."

Oh. Well that was… interesting.

"So… are we okay?" Ashawyn asked hopefully.

The human honestly didn't know what to say to that. "I don't know."

The fae pouted slightly, reclaiming his hand and rubbing a thumb tantalizingly over the skin. "What's there to not know? You enjoy the sex, right? Why does it have to be any more complicated than that?"

Cyrus shrugged. "I think it's a human thing. I just…" Was it wrong to just want one, faithful person to be with? Was that unrealistic? Was he expecting too much from someone who just didn't understand? _Could_ he even explain it to Ashawyn so the fae would understand?

"You just what?" Ashawyn prodded. "What isn't working for you?"

Cyrus let out a frustrated sigh, trying to put to words exactly what he was looking for. "I want someone for just me. Someone faithful to just me. And…"

Ashawyn tilted his head to the side curiously when Cyrus ran out of words to articulate his convoluted feelings. "And…?"

An image of Severus leaning over Remus's shoulder to glance at the paper came to mind, two coffees in hand that the vampire had prepared for them both, knowing exactly how Remus liked it. The comfortable ease as they sat in the living room, reading books or just enjoying each other's company over a glass of wine. The way conversations passed between their eyes when Cyrus was in the same room, the two of them following it with the ease of a couple familiar with each other to a point of… He wanted that. He wanted that connection, that understanding.

But how could he explain it so Ashawyn would understand?

"I want someone who knows when I don't want to talk. I want them to help pull my ass out of the fire when I do something stupid. I want them to…" To care about him as much as he cared about them, and say those cheesy words that everyone laughs at but really wants to hear. "I want someone who understands me."

Comprehension slowly dawned in Ashawyn's eyes, and the fae looked both disappointed and slightly guilty. "I see… You're looking for a bonded." Slowly, a nostalgic smile spread across his lips as he finally let go of Cyrus's hand. "I don't think I can give you that. But, I'd like it if we could still be friends in spite of our misunderstanding."

Cyrus nodded, feeling as though a weight had lifted off his chest. The human understood what he wanted now, and Ashawyn wasn't it. Even though the fae hadn't been a bad boyfriend, he might make a better friend. "Yeah."

Ashawyn grinned. "Great. And if you ever change your mind about the… well, you know where to find me."

Cyrus couldn't help but snort and roll his eyes with good humor. Of course the fae couldn't help but slip in a pick up line. But really, he should have expected it by now.

This would prove to be an 'interesting' friendship.

_oOo_

The rest of the week passed with high tension all around. People gossiped about the amount of werewolves dying, as not everyone had a contract with the Aengar to get treatment. Cyrus suspected that the poisonings were the root of the problem, but with no one in those packs confirming the problem, some very odd theories began to spread. Some of them were pretty _out there_, but others had started connecting the dots with the amount of poison cases at the Aengar facilities. Personally, Cyrus wished the vampires trying to hunt down Dorcas would find him and kill him already. If the poisonings persisted, he'd end up spending more time with the Adelphos Pack than at Shikaan. He felt a little guilty at not healing all the other people who were dying, but he knew that he couldn't save everyone. There was also the problem of people wanting to take advantage of his abilities. Putting himself on the radar at this point, before he had even finished his education, was _not_ a wise decision.

Thursday's practical with Claerant went well enough although Cyrus had screwed up or forgotten some of the curses, but since she hadn't been pissed at him, he knew he'd done a good job. She was temperamental that way. If someone didn't put their full effort into her class, she'd threaten them with curses too obscure to know the counters for and then blame their rotting limbs or dissolving eyelids on their lack of work ethic.

When Necromancy class with Mikhail on Friday was finally over, Cyrus got a text from Yankovich on his magi-com telling him to go to the demon's office for his 'spring break in paradise'. Having already prepared his stuff ahead of time (read: packed everything he could think of needing into his bag), he paid a quick trip to his room to pick up his things before apparating in front of Yankovich's door.

Lifting his fist to knock, he was surprised when the door swung open before he could even touch it. The little red man from earlier stood there, cane in hand, scar-twisted face even more twisted by the smile on his lips.

"Come, human," the gnarly old man said through a thick accent, turning around and wobbling farther into the room.

Cyrus did as instructed, curious and worried at the same time. What if it was impossible for him to learn control? What if the little red dude didn't like him? What if he blew them both up?

"Silent. Chaotic mind is too loud, must be quiet." The little man tapped his cane on the ground. "Lessons will begin now. Hand," he commanded, holding out his own.

Cyrus stared at it for a moment before grasping it with his own. The world disappeared in warmth and fire.

_oOo_

"No! Silent! Must be _silent_. Are too loud!"

Cyrus shivered his ass off under the water fall and poured more power into the spell currently keeping him from hypothermia. How was he supposed to stop thinking when he was fucking _freezing his ass off?_

The walking stick hit him on the arm, and he grunted and moved with the attack to lessen the impact. This was worse than lessons with Yankovich _already_. "How am I supposed to meditate when you keep hitting me with that bloody stick of yours?"

It smacked him again. "You must work harder to not be distracted!"

"How is meditation supposed to help with this? I've already tried learning how to meditate! It doesn't _do_ anything."

He found himself kicked out of the waterfall and sent flying into the freezing cold water of the river. Sputtering, since he had never been a very good swimmer, he used his magic to force the water to part for him and walked up to the shore.

The little red man was sitting there, cross-legged, with a mighty scowl on his face. Cyrus wasn't sure exactly what the guy was pissed about, but he could guess.

"Sit."

He sat on the damp grass and tried to keep a matching scowl off his face as he evaporated the water off him with a spell.

"You will tell me about self. How you learn wandless magic. This 'meditation' you have done."

The human blinked in surprise at the rather abrupt change in tactics. "Uh… okay. My guardian tried to teach me Occlumency and I failed miserably. Meditation never did anything for me, and I never understood why I was doing it and why it was supposed to help me 'find my mind'. In the end he had to show me how to find my magic before I could find my mind."

The old man hummed thoughtfully, tapping his cane against his knee. "Had to find magic first… hm… How have you found wandless magic? Easy? Hard?"

Cyrus shrugged. "Easy for the most part."

"Hm. Is unusual for human to find easy."

Cyrus frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The little red guy didn't look the least bit sorry for insulting him. "Humans learned magic. Fae, elves, demons… always knew magic. Have better connection with magic. You have good connection with magic. Is unusual for human. You know reason why?"

Cyrus frowned in thought. What was different about him that could explain that one? "Well… I'm a magic sensitive, and…"

The scarred face tilted to one side. "And?" He impatiently prodded Cyrus with his cane.

"Well…" He nursed his new wound. "I don't know if this makes a difference or not, but there's something wrong with my mind. What did Rivehn call it…" He wracked his brain for the word, but couldn't seem to find it. "Fra… fractured… fractus mens? Something like that."

"I know not Latin. Explain."

Cyrus frowned. "Um… I'm not exactly sure what it means."

The little red man tapped his cane impatiently again. "You will show me," he said decisively, putting his hand on the human's knee.

The world exploded into darkness.

Cyrus 'woke' to find himself floating in his magic, confused as all hell. Spreading out his senses, he found the red guy's 'consciousness' floating around examining him. Knowing he wouldn't be able to communicate like this, he found his submerged mind web in his core and pulled it out into the empty space that it used to occupy. Just as he was about to hit the clasp to unlock it, he found the red guy 'watching' him and conveying question. Knowing they wouldn't be able to talk until he had the mindscape set up, he hit the clasp and watched as the mind web exploded into the space around them, flexing and stretching before it 'settled'.

With a mental tweak, he brought them to his mindscape.

The graveyard had changed slightly since he'd last seen it, but for the most part it was familiar. He found the little red guy poking around curiously.

"Don't damage anything," Cyrus warned cautiously. "The headstones and scenery are representations of the web that you saw earlier. If you blow something up, it directly damages my mind. The nodes you saw earlier are my memories."

"Hmm," was all the man said for a moment, poking things. "You are… unique case. I read about this." He let loose a string of that demon language that made no sense to Cyrus. "Have adapted new way of protecting mind, too." He nodded decisively. "I will change teaching. Have not had student like you before. You are magic sensitive, yes? Can feel magic everywhere?"

Cyrus nodded. "For the most part. I've been getting better, but I don't really know what I'm doing. Haven't had anyone train me." Though, he did have those lessons with Catchpool that he could start once he got back. He'd have to make sure he gave Yalmireth two hours next week, though, before he could collect on his time with her.

The little demon nodded. "We will leave. I will show meditation through magic." With a _pop_, the old man disappeared from his mindscape.

Cyrus let the graveyard disappear in order to recompress and sink it before leaving the 'not space' to return to the real world.

The rest of the day passed with Cyrus trying to learn how to 'become one' with the magic in nature instead of just in his own body, which felt like trying to turn his head to the right and left at the same time. It wasn't until they'd spent three days exercising his awareness and 'communion' with the natural and death magics around him that Gyrdrich finally let him try a raising, though.

"Focus. Raising _figrish_ takes little energy. Use only drop." The little red man, who Cyrus had learned was actually a fire demon, prodded the dead, flying pig with his stick.

Taking in a deep, Cyrus sucked his normal magic back into his core and let the death magic escape. It did so in a rush, not having been used in a long time. Cursing out loud, he tried to get it back under control, reaching for his Linmeyelle.

"No Linmeyelle. Is crutch," he heard Gyrdrich's voice as the fire demon moved through the roaring cloud of his death magic as though it was smoke and he had a bubble charm around him. "Death magic is unhappy that you do not use it. Channel it into death magics of nature."

"How do I do that?" he shouted, watching as it leached into the earth and started killing all the grass around him. Why was Gyrdrich just standing there?

"You can sense death magics! Use sense and figure out!"

Cursing under his breath, Cyrus tried to remember everything they had covered in the past three days. Stretch out the senses for the leylines and flow of magic. Synchronize with them and feel the flow of life and death energies…

Awareness was slow to come at first, with all the death magic flying about and confusing him. Ignoring it for a minute, he sent his focus into the earth and looked for the death and natural magic that was continuously cycling within.

Abruptly, he hit the network and almost lost himself in the ripping tide of power beneath his feet. Gathering his own death magic, he directed it into one of the 'death' streams and watched as the surplus happily left him to rejoin the earth until he finally had just a small amount left. Letting out an explosive breath as his death magic hummed happily under his skin, he opened his eyes.

And promptly stared in shock at his absolutely decayed surroundings. Everything within thirty feet of him had been killed, except for the little patch of grass on which Gyrdrich stood.

The red demon didn't look fazed in the least. "You are like raging _Tariknach_. Must teach control and restraint."

As Cyrus looked around at the blackened earth, he couldn't help but let out groan of dismay. Wasn't that the truth.

Gyrdrich devoted the rest of the week to enhancing his control, and teaching him how to channel excess magic into the earth without killing everyone around him. It took a lot of time and effort, but slowly his explosions of power became less volatile and destructive. It was with great reluctance that he left at the end of the week.

"Keep practice. Much to learn before become necromancer, but much potential there is. Is not gift that can be ignored."

Cyrus bowed in thanks to his new 'master', as he'd been trained to under threat of stick. "Thank you Master Gyrdrich for taking the time to teach me this past week."

The demon made one of those noncommittal, thoughtful hums as he pulled at his white beard. "I be speaking to Yankovich through fire. Much more I will teach before you are ready to be apprentice of my pupil."

Cyrus frowned slightly. "Apprentice?"

The demon whacked him with his stick. "Yes, apprentice! Cannot be such powerful idiot student and not become apprentice! Would be waste."

The human nursed his wounded shin with a groan. He hadn't even been thinking about who he was going to apprentice to, _if_ he was going to apprentice to anyone at all. His top priority at the moment was just surviving his four years at Shikaan. "But what if I wanted to apprentice in Runes or something else?"

He got another whack for his question. "Idiot! Can apprentice in two things. Hard, but can do. I not be spending weekends for next years so idiot can choose not to be Master Necromancer!"

Eyes widening slightly, Cyrus wondered if he'd heard that right. "Wait, what? You're going to keep teaching me?"

The stubborn little old demon nodded decisively. "Yankovich and I be talking. Is bad news and good news."

A cold ball of iron dropped into Cyrus's stomach. "Talking? What bad news?"

Again with that ponderous beard-petting. It – and the silence – were beginning to drive the human crazy. Finally, just when he was about to blow up and ask again, the demon spoke. "You pulled from Necromancy at Shikaan. No more class. Instead, you be having lessons with me on weekends." When Cyrus's jaw dropped in shock, the little red man continued. "Class was stupid idea. I tell Yankovich this. I tell him you danger to students, and will learn more, better, as single student. When you been taught control, maybe Yankovich take you back in class. Maybe."

Cyrus was fighting between being pissed and being hurt that Yankovich had just abandoned him like that and kicked him out of the class. Could he even do that? Biting his lip, he forced the indignant response he wanted to let loose back inside. Gyrdrich didn't take kindly to what he viewed as petulance or immaturity of any kind. "Do I have to pay you or something?"

The demon laughed, and it wasn't pleasant in the least. It sounded like he was trying to cough up a lung. "Money? Look like need money?" he coughed, motioning to his little hermit shack and the surrounding forestry. "No, pay no money. What do is this – work hard, become Yankovich apprentice, and do favors for me. Student teacher favors. None of vampire crap idea of favor. Understand?" Cyrus nodded. "Good. Now leave, _Tariknach!_ Before you kill more trees," the old man barked in dismissal.

The human couldn't help but smile slightly as he bowed again and disapparated. If there was one thing he'd learned in the past week under Gyrdrich's tutelage, was the little red-skinned demon was a brilliant, crotchety old bugger.

_oOo_

"Cyrus! You're back!" Tara exclaimed excitably after he apparated into his room. He barely managed to avoid the first full-body tackle, but on the second attack he wasn't nearly so lucky. Groaning as he was sent crashing to the floor, he stared at the top of Tara's head incredulously.

"Honestly. Who gave you drugs?"

Tara giggled and snuggled his neck, pulling down his body suit so she could sink her fangs into it. "I missed your blood Cyyy. Tastes sooo good~"

Xanthir watched from the bed with an 'I'm-glad-she's-attacking-you-and-stopped-harrassing-me' expression on his face. "The idiot fae she last drank from has been consumin' a wide variety of drugs to stay conscious for a really important test he's gonna be takin'. He didn't think to tell Tara this before she drank, though, so she's pretty… high."

Tara finally pulled her fangs out and licked the wound clean, healing it with magic. Giggling, she stumbled to her feet and left Cyrus on the floor in his daze. Letting her drink from his addictive blood while in this state probably wasn't a good idea.

"Look Xany, I can flllyyy~"

"Tara! Get down from the window!"

Cyrus watched Tara bounce across his walls and nearly knock over his book shelf before he got sick of it. Wandlessly opening his window, he waited until she was directly in between him and it before sending a concussive force of magic that sent her flying out the window.

Xanthir stared at him for one long second of comical shock before running to the window. "Well look at that, she really can fly. Nice job, Cy! Why didn't I think of that…" the werewolf muttered to himself as he whistled a happy tune and skipped out of the room.

Why had Cyrus decided to come to this school again?

Fortunately, Xanthir dragged Tara home before she could destroy his rooms, leaving him to an eerie peace and quiet as he finished up the last of his assignments. The absence of a roaring waterfall made his thoughts nostalgically return to his last week of death magic training, but he forced them back onto the task at hand.

Well, he tried to. But his brain kept running that last conversation he'd had with Gyrdrich over and over again. Kicked out of Necromancy. On the bright side, he had one less class to go to and do homework assignments for. But on the downside, all that work he'd done so far was basically flushed down the toilet. Fucking Yankovich.

Letting out an angry huff of air, he finished up his homework so he could go to bed and ignore the world for a bit.

The morning came faster than he wanted it to, though that was hardly a surprise. He got his ass handed to him by another werewolf student in Weapons & Battle, which did little to alleviate his already foul mood. On the bright side, he only had two classes for the entire day (W&B and Runes), since he'd been kicked out of Necromancy and he'd dropped Animagus ages ago. Rivehn had a pop quiz for them in Runes, but it wasn't particularly hard for anyone who'd actually been doing the work so far. He left for lunch in a moderately better mood.

Cyrus was the first to their table, and since he'd had to usual table. Cyrus murmured a greeting and quickly ordered some food to fill his grumbling stomach. He'd had to skip breakfast to make it to classes that morning, so his first order of business was to fill the empty pit.

Xanthir, who had stayed behind to ask Rivehn about something, met them at their table when Cyrus was already halfway through his lunch. "So, apparently we're going to be touching on Wards in the next month or so."

Cyrus nearly coughed up a lung as he choked on his lasagna. Taking a large gulp of water, he tried to clear his wind pipe and wash down the phlegm. "Seriously?" he rasped. "I thought we weren't going to look at that until next year in Warding."

Xanthir shrugged. "I dunno. It wasn't on the course outline, but apparently learning _pycarian theorium_ isn't really important anymore. Rivehn said something about some guy doing his thesis on disproving how legit it was, and most of the Runes Masters approved it."

Cyrus frowned. "What?"

Tara, who had thrown herself into a seat while Xanthir was explaining, snorted. "Honestly, Cyrus. You know nothing about the academic world, do you? New shit's constantly being figured out, and old theories get tossed out the window all the time. It just so happens that the latest breakthrough fucked up Rivehn's curriculum, so he replaced it with something else until shit settles."

Cyrus said nothing to that for fear that he sound like an even bigger idiot. Just because he wasn't into all that academic crap didn't mean that he was stupid, though Tara certainly made it sound that way sometimes.

"If you wanna be a Master at something in the future, you gotta keep up with current events and research, Cyrus. Better to get in the habit earlier rather than later."

The human grumbled and stuffed some more lasagna in his mouth. Yeah. Just like he had to somehow teach himself a shit load of other stuff that his friends couldn't help him with because they were just as busy. There was a reason Tara usually charged sex or money for her time. She was doing a triple masters or some crazy shit, and Xanthir had to work twice as hard as Cyrus to figure things out in Runes class, which was his focus for after he graduated.

He was so signing up for those summer culture courses. He'd finally looked into it a bit last night before going to bed, and apparently most of the seminars, camps, or classes were held at prestigious private schools or equally stuck-up specialized schools.

"Hello," Yalmireth greeted softly as he sat down at their table. Everyone else responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Cyrus just nodded his head, as his mouth was full of more lasagna. "Cyrus, could we talk after lunch? About Wandless?"

The human nodded, swallowing his lasagna. "Yeah, sure." For a second there he thought the demon was going to say Ashawyn. That would have been awkward. They'd avoided that topic for the most part so far, though apparently it had gotten around that he and the cute Necromancy TA (Ashawyn) were no longer dating. How that happened when no one had been there to witness the break up was beyond Cyrus. Maybe Ashawyn was already dating someone else publicly?

After everyone had finished eating, Yalmireth and Cyrus headed automatically back to the human's rooms. "So, is this about the tutoring?"

The demon nodded. "Yes. I was hoping you'd be able to help me before class tomorrow."

Well, he didn't have Necromancy anymore. "Yeah, sure. I could tutor you right now if you wanted."

Yalmireth frowned. "Don't you have class?"

"I… it's complicated. I'm just not taking it anymore."

He could tell by the look on Yalmireth's face that the demon wanted to say more, but thankfully he respected Cyrus's privacy on the matter. Instead, they made their way to one of the smaller rooms designed specifically for magic training. A couple people were already inside, as was inevitable, but Cyrus simply cast a privacy ward around them to deter all but the most stubborn of ears.

"Alright, so what exactly have you been having trouble with?"

Yalmireth flushed a darker shade of gray. "Everything."

The human blinked. "That's a bit broad. Think you can narrow it down to something in particular you want to work on?"

Looking thoughtfully at one of the spell dummies, Yalmireth paused for a while before coming up with a response. "I've made my magic distribution more even, like you suggested the first time we met. It helped some things, but not others."

Cyrus hummed thoughtfully. "What did it help?"

"Charms mostly. Easy ones. But I still can't cast any offensive or defensive magic."

Cyrus turned Yalmireth towards the spell dummy and put his hand on the demon's casting arm. "Cast a charm that comes easily to you," he commanded quietly, focusing on his magical senses. His week with Gyrdrich had done more than just help his channeling of death magic – his understanding of his magic sensitivity had also increased significantly. In order to teach him some things, Gyrdrich had had him use his magic sensitivity to feel what the red demon was doing. He was hoping that, by doing the same thing, he would be able to 'feel' what Yalmireth was doing wrong.

He felt the magic charge under his fingers, pooling in the arm in preparation for the spell casting. Before the spell was even cast, Cyrus was already frowning. He'd never cast spells this way himself. Pooling the magic and then casting? He'd always just measured the amount it took and used it directly from his core, channeling it through his pathways. So the question was, did he break Yalmireth of this habit or let him continue it?

The charm itself was cast successfully. The pooled magic was all used up in the spell, and Cyrus frowned again. He knew where this was going, now. "Yalmireth, try to cast an offensive or defensive spell next."

The magic pooled in the arm again, except when the demon tried to cast the spell all the pooled magic was used and then the spell shorted out. He could see it now. "Well, your first problem is that you shouldn't be pooling your magic in your arm like this before you cast the spell. By pooling it there and casting it from that temporary reservoir of magic, you unintentionally cheat the spell you're trying to cast out of how much magic it needs. Spells must be cast from the core, not from a pool of magic that you create in your limbs. Now, do the charm again, except this time pull the magic directly from your core."

Automatically, magic started pooling in the arm again, so Cyrus told him to stop and try again, which resulted in ten minutes of frustration before Yalmireth threw his hands up.

"I'm not getting it! I don't understand what I'm doing wrong! I mean, I understand what you're saying, but I don't understand how to do it the way you want me to." The demon was breathing heavily, frustrated with himself, Cyrus, and probably his magic too. "It sounds so simple when you describe it, but I still can't do it."

Cyrus was beginning to understand what Severus felt like when he was trying to teach the human Occlumency. "Listen, Yalmireth, this isn't something you can just give up on after ten minutes. We're trying to break you of a habit. You're used to doing it this way."

The demon looked about ready to kick the spell dummy, but he refrained. "I wish I could feel it as you do. Maybe then I would understand how to change it."

Cyrus opened his mouth to answer, but froze as his brain caught up with the idea Yalmireth had just spouted. Well… why _couldn't_ he? "You want to try that? See if it works?" he asked hesitantly.

The demon turned to him with an unreadable expression on his face. "What do you mean?"

"The whole… feeling thing."

"I can't sense magic like you can, Cyrus, or even other demons can. I've always been…" The demon crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. "It is a weakness I have fought with my entire life. It is the reason I do not succeed easily in areas of magical study."

Cyrus made a thoughtful sound as his brain churned over some epiphany he hadn't quite vocalized to himself yet. He knew… he just had this feeling that he could do _something_. Sure, Yalmireth couldn't sense magic worth shit, but he could sense his own magic enough to use it, right? So maybe he just needed to be shown how to do it right. But if he couldn't feel how Cyrus moved his own magic, maybe… maybe he could feel how _Cyrus_ moved _Yalmireth's_ magic!

"I have an idea."

The demon looked up from his brooding with a hopeful look on his face.

"I don't know if it'll work, but it's better to try than to not try at all." Cyrus walked towards the demon and held out placating hands. "But you're going to have to trust me." When Yalmireth bit his lip and nodded hesitantly, the human continued forward and slipped around behind Yalmireth, avoiding the wings. "This is going to feel weird, but you have to let me in, okay? Don't fight it, or I'm going to be in a lot of pain."

Seeing the hesitant nod again, Cyrus quietly ordered Yalmireth to stay relaxed as he pressed his front to Yalmireth's back. The demon jerked at first as Cyrus made contact with his wings, before remembering his promise and trying to relax. Slipping his hands around Yalmireth's wrists, he brought the arms up and forward, aiming them at the dummies. Slipping his fingers between the demon's own, he mentally checked that their channels were aligned before he gently 'knocked' on the door between them. Yalmireth jerked again, before remembering and calming again. Focused entirely on his task, Cyrus slowly nudged the door open between them before walking through.

Yalmireth's magic was much different than his own. The flavor was unique and spicy, if it could even be called a flavor. Maybe it was more of a feeling? Either way, Cyrus got a good feel for the demon's channels before searching for the core.

It wasn't much smaller than his own when he compared them, but when he tried to pull the magic up for casting a spell, it was far more… thin. Not quite as densely compact as his own. Already knowing how much magic it took Yalmireth to cast that color-changing charm, he pulled it forward, through the channels, and cast it directly from the hand.

Or rather, he would have if Yalmireth hadn't freaked out before the spell could be complete. Letting out a yell of pain, Cyrus pulled back into himself and pushed away from the demon, feeling as though someone had raked over him with many sharp forks before flattening him with a frying pan. He felt… achy and stingy.

"Cyrus! I'm so sorry, I was- I didn't expect- I'm sorry!"

Forcing his eyes open through the waves of pain, he saw Yalmireth kneeling next to him looking nearly beside himself with concern. Blinking hazily through the pain, he forced himself into an upright position and grimaced as his sore body complained. Damnit. He'd been hoping to avoid this.

Yalmireth was still apologizing profusely, so Cyrus held up a hand to silence him. "It's alright. Calm down. Just… try not to do it again, okay? You need to be completely relaxed and let me take control. If you try to fight it… well, this happens." Massaging his temples, he looked more closely at his friend beside him. Yalmireth's face was a lot darker than normal. Was he blushing?

"O-of course. I'm sorry."

Cyrus let the demon help him to his feet, and he brushed some of the dirt off his ass once he was steady. "Okay, let's try that again. Ready?"

Yalmireth nodded, but said nothing, turning his back to Cyrus quickly. Frowning at the odd behavior, the human shrugged it off and resumed his previous position. Getting inside Yalmireth's magic was a lot easier this time, now that the demon knew what it was supposed to feel like, but Cyrus was far more careful once he got his hands on the magic.

"Okay, now I'm going to cast the charm," he warned, cautious. "Try to remember the feel of it being cast directly from your core instead of pooled in your arm."

Moving slowly, much more slowly than he was ever accustomed to casting, Cyrus drew the magic from the core in a solid rope, leading it to the hand. Since it was connected to the core still, and not in a pool, it would be far easier for him to compensate for the spell depending on how much magic it took. "Alright, I'm casting it now."

The magic formed to his will with ease, as if he'd been manipulating Yalmireth's magic for months. It came alive under his direction and happily jumped forward to form the charm he was asking of it. The spell execution was flawless, and the leftover magic 'rope' returned to the core with a gentle nudge from Cyrus.

"Did you feel that? Can you see how it's different?"

Yalmireth swallowed and nodded, eliciting a frown from Cyrus.

"Uh, good. Do you want to try something a little bigger now to get the feel for it?"

Again, the demon just nodded instead of speaking, so Cyrus brushed it off and focused his intent on a stupefy and drew the rope forward again. "This time we're going to cast it from your left arm. With wandless magic, it makes no difference where you cast the spell from, as long as you direct it properly and give it the right intent. Like Catchpool talked about before, wandless magic is all about will and intent, but you have to be careful not to force your magic to do things the way you think they should be done. If you focus merely on the intent, often your magic will flow in the correct way without you having to force it. It's when you try to control every single step of casting that you begin to run into problems. Once you figure it out the first time, your brain and body remember it, so you don't need to think so deeply about every single spell you cast." And so with that little lecture, he cast a stupefy from Yalmireth's left hand with ease. It felt a lot different than his own magic, but since Yalmireth wasn't fighting him, he didn't have any difficulty directing the magic. "Your turn. Try to cast it. Remember, _intent_."

Keeping his hands and body where they were, he watched with careful senses as Yalmireth pulled a shaky rope up from his core. "Keep it stronger. Be sure of your magic when you manipulate it. If _you're_ worried and tentative, _it_ will be worried and tentative." Slowly but surely, the rope began to strengthen and smooth over until it was nearly as good as Cyrus's had been. "Very good. Now, cast the spell. Remember – _intent_. Your magic will do the work for you, so just let it. Trust it."

The first spell sputtered and died in Yalmireth's hands, and he felt the demon tense. "Relax. Trust it. I've shown you that you can do it, you just need to have the same faith in yourself."

The demon took a deep breath and tried again. This time, the spell was successful and missed the dummy altogether. "Not bad. That was good. Now, focus on where you intend for the spell to go, as well as how powerful you want it to be. Keep in mind, though, that certain spells can only be overpowered to a certain point before the magic shorts out."

The next spell was even better, and managed to hit the dummy on the arm instead of miss it altogether. It was still weak overall, but that was probably due to the fact that not only did Yalmireth's magic have less volume than Cyrus's did, it was also not nearly as densely packed. After all, if someone had Cyrus's amount of magic and it had the same density as Yalmireth's, the core would have exploded past his body years ago.

"See? You're doing it!" Cyrus cheered on behind Yalmireth with a grin. Slowly extricating himself, he watched as Yalmireth cast the stupefy over and over again, becoming more and more confident with each successful casting.

Finally, after nearly two minutes of continuous casting, Yalmireth stopped and turned to Cyrus with a bright smile on his face that lit his eyes up like stars. "I can do it!" he exclaimed, excited.

Cyrus returned the smile with a grin. "Yep. Want to try a few other spells you've been having trouble with?"

The demon nodded eagerly.

_oOo_

Yalmireth made leaps and bounds in Wandless since they'd figured out his primary problem with the larger spells. He still had a lot of trouble figuring them out the first time, but all the spells that Cyrus had shown Yalmireth were remembered. Of course, since Cyrus wouldn't always be there to show him each spell, their next hurdle was helping Yalmireth figure it out on his own.

They continued their tutoring sessions for the next few days, since Yalmireth was on a roll. Even Catchpool had come up to Cyrus after class and congratulated him on 'teaching the blind how to see'. He thought that was a little harsh of her, but she didn't seem to care that she was bashing a student in the least. It seemed to be a theme at Shikaan.

Things flowed smoothly enough until Thursday, when Cyrus started feeling woozy during lunchtime. He wasn't sure what the heck was wrong with him, but he tried to push through it and go to Wandless with Yalmireth. Thankfully, the demon was excited enough that he didn't notice that Cyrus wasn't exactly 'all there'. If there was one thing that made the human feel awkward, it was people getting up in his face about his health. At the Dursleys' he'd been forced to fend for himself, and now that he actually knew how to heal himself, he avoided going to Svea for most things.

And this was no exception. He made sure to drink a lot of fluids, but the headache and dizziness wasn't going away. Every exam he did on himself came up with nothing that he could see, however, so he dismissed it as a bug and decided to go to bed right after his last class for the day. He probably had the flu, or his weird illness was acting up again.

He nearly stumbled out of Wandless at the end of the period, using every ounce of his strength to keep himself upright and somewhat steady. Yalmireth was watching him with concerned eyes now, but Cyrus brushed off his questions with a smile and an 'I'm fine' before he continued to his last class of the day – Charms. They were learning the basics of how weapon enchantment worked, so he didn't want to miss it.

Sitting down on one of the chairs strewn around the half-circle of tables, he rubbed his forehead and cast another diagnostic charm. What the heck was wrong with him? He couldn't figure it out, and all he wanted to do was sleep, but the enchantment…

"Are you going to cure that or what?" a quiet, sharp voice spoke beside him.

Blinking blearily, Cyrus turned to his left and saw a familiar face next to him. Where did he know… oh right. This was that vampire he'd saved and who'd bitten him. "What?" he asked eloquently.

The vampire looked annoyed. "You haven't even noticed?"

Cyrus opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about, but then Professor Dugasse came inside and they all instantly shut up. He wasn't the most cheerful of teachers on a good day, so everyone was always on their best behavior. He had no compunctions with hexing his students into silence.

"Today we're working on magical enchantment. I hope you've all brought silver or gold blades like I told you to. If you're rich, you brought an expensive alloy that was actually designed for this shit. Now, put them on the table in front of you and follow my directions exactly. If you want metal shrapnel exploding in your face, don't listen to me. Kindly aim your stupidity away from the other student, though. Common courtesy and all that." He snapped his wand at the board and a complex list of instructions appeared. "Now, as I was saying last week…"

But Cyrus couldn't seem to get himself to focus. His head was starting to fill with cotton, and stomach was bugging him.

A hand slapped down on the table in front of him, startling him out of his thoughts. "Mr. Obsidian. We all know you're good in this class, but even you will fuck it up if you're not even listening to me." When Cyrus just stared at him, he frowned. "Hello? Anybody home?"

The rest of the class was beginning to snicker, but Cyrus ignored them as he felt his stomach begin to churn painfully. Damnit. What the hell was wrong with him?

A hand grabbed him and yanked him to his feet, shocking him out of his pain-filled daze. "Excuse us, Professor. I think he's not feeling too well at the moment," Cyrus absently heard the quiet but smooth voice say as he was lead from the room and into the hallway. The abrupt movement sent his stomach roiling unpleasantly, and as soon as they were outside the classroom he had to conjure a bucket and empty the contents of his stomach into it. Merlin, why did he feel like shit?

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd taken care of it earlier."

Something sliced his hand, the only available skin not hidden by his suit besides his face, and he let out an outraged "Hey!" Or at least, that had been his intent. It came out sounding thready and weak. He watched through bleary eyes as the vampire did something with it, casting a series of spells and watching the resulting flashes of colour. Slowly, two black eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Do you realize how lucky you are to be alive?"

Cyrus frowned, fuzzy brain trying to comprehend the situation. He was still lost. "What are you talking about?" he asked impatiently, irritable with the way the vampire had manhandled him and his ever-growing headache.

"You've been poisoned, idiot," the vampire drawled. "How you could have not noticed is beyond my comprehension."

Cyrus's frown grew. "Poisoned? But I already checked for that."

"Obviously not thoroughly enough. Or by the time you noticed, your brain capacity had already dropped to a point where diagnostic spells were useless."

Had Cyrus's intelligence just been insulted? His headache was getting worse. He spaced out for a second before he found himself being manhandled again, this time to lean against the marble wall of the corridor.

"Sit still and shut up," the vampire muttered, pulling out his wand and casting a series of spells. "Hmm. This is… interesting."

Cyrus blinked languidly. "Whazintristing?"

"Your body… is fighting off the poison. I don't know if it would have managed to completely neutralize it, but let's not take that chance." The vampire reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wooden box. Opening it, he searched inside for a moment before pulling out a tiny vial. With another cast spell, it enlarged. "Open your mouth."

Cyrus gave him a look. "How d'I know y'aren't gon'poison me too?"

The vampire sneered. "If I wanted you dead, I would have left you to slowly melt from the inside out."

Now that was a logic that couldn't be easily disputed. "Why help me?" he asked, still not sure he shouldn't be going to Svea instead.

"Because I don't like being in someone's debt," the adolescent said before shoving the vial into Cyrus's mouth. The human swallowed without further questions, not that he could speak around a glass vial in the first place. It tasted nasty enough to be a legit potion, at least.

He hated potions.

Though, after a few minutes, he had to admit his head was clearing up, and he didn't feel quite so hot anymore. Turning his magical senses inward, he tried to look for the poison that he'd missed the first time.

He caught it this time. Well, it was hard not to when it was trying to dissolve his cells and fighting against the cure at the same time. Well, as much as a poison could fight. Or whatever. Obviously his brain still wasn't functioning at full capacity…

"How many fingers am I holding up?" the vampire asked him.

Cyrus gave him an incredulous look. "None."

"You'll live," he said. And then began to walk away.

"Hey, wait a minute!" The dark-haired vampire turned back around, yellow eyes questioning, and the only thing Cyrus could think of to say was, "What's your name?"

"Pyralis," the vampire said before he turned around and walked away without another word.

Cyrus frowned, staring after this new quandary with confused and curious eyes. What, were they 'even' now or something? Vampires were so weird.

Before he could ponder on his new… acquaintance, however, his magi-com started buzzing impatiently in his pocket. Letting out a sigh, he pulled it out and flipped it open.

It took a couple of moments for the text message to register, as his brain was still fuzzy from his near-death poisoning… thing.

_Hey Cyrus, just wanted_

_to remind you that this_

_weekend is my test that_

_you said you'd help with._

_I'll come pick you up at_

_your room at 1 pm on_

_Saturday._

_Thanks, you're a life_

_saver!_

_Ash_

Aw shit. He'd forgotten all about that. Now he not only had to spend a weekend with his ex-boyfriend-still-friend, but he had to suffer the presence of Mikhail-Mr.-Creepy. He'd been hoping, with his being kicked out of Necromancy, that he wouldn't have to see that elf again.

Damnit.

_-Toki Mirage-_

__This really took a while. :P Sorry for that peeps! Had the last stretch of school to finish, and travel, and then the editing… But it's done now. And chapter 26 is already on the way.

I'd like to thank Roos and Marms for musing/editing the chapter. Even if they taunted me at the end there. (glares) You know what I'm talking about.

Ehm… for those of you who think that Cyrus was too accepting and stuff about the break up – he was being more mature. And Ashawyn's not an asshole. He's just… obtuse about human culture and a flirt. I don't know why everyone hates him. (sniffles)

Thanks for reading!


	26. Chapter TwentySix: Awesomeness

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty-Six:

_oOo_

That was it. Cyrus hated this stupid Runes project. He'd taken one look at his original idea – creating a new ward – and had promptly abandoned it when he realized exactly how far he was out of his depth. The second idea wasn't much better. Cussing, he leaned back against his chair with an explosive sigh and tossed the runes book onto the library table with disgust, ignoring the disapproving and annoyed looks sent in his direction. What was it with thousand-year-old fogies writing in the most boring style imaginable? Half of this crap he couldn't understand because he had to look shit up in reference books. And _then_ he had to look up shit in the _reference_ books.

How was he supposed to write a somewhat-intelligent essay when the best source he could find was written by some guy who didn't even have a vowel in his name. Who the hell had a vowel-less name? Apparently Blrvchmvk had been from a culture of miniature dwarves that had been wiped out in a Realm War more than a millennium ago. And then there was the fact that whoever had translated the book really didn't have a good grasp of English. It was worse than trying to decode Ron's handwriting.

Crossing his arms on the table, he let his head fall forward to rest on them, trying to get his brain back into gear. What was so hard about self-floatation? Brooms could fly, you could levitate people into the bloody air, and yet no one had figured out how to fly themselves around yet? Maybe they were satisfied with the creation of brooms. Well, Cyrus could understand Wizarding society being satisfied with that, but Other Realm too? Maybe with all the beings that could fly around with wings no one particularly cared.

Apparently no one else had flying dreams as kid. Or the dream didn't last long enough for them to choose a career path where they could figure out how, and because of that, Cyrus only had a series of badly-translated journals to work with. Then there was the fact that Blrvchmvk had been a magical physicist when not much was actually _known_ about physics. Why had no one pursued the idea of self-flotation? He'd probably have better luck learning every levitation charm in existence, casting them with his rune sight activated, and then picking them apart until he figured out how they ticked.

Actually… that wasn't a bad idea.

Bursting out of his chair, Cyrus packed up all his stuff and apparated directly to his room, finally motivated now that he'd figured out where to start. Half of the marks for the project came from writing a journal with all your ideas, thoughts, obstacles, and work in it, after all. Even if he failed to make a spell to float a person, he'd get the points for doing all the work and deepening his understanding of the spell framework, which was the point of the project in the first place.

Grabbing one of his large, canvas-sized notebooks from the space between his bookcase and wall, he put it on the table and summoned a bottle of ink from his backpack. With a flick of his wrist, his phoenix feather wand was in his hand, and he silently cast the simplest levitation spell he knew.

It caught the fruit bowl on the table in its grasp and lifted it up into the air. Opening the bottle of ink with an absent wave of his left hand, he cast a spell that was closely related to the enchantments cast on things like the quick-quotes quill. A Runes Master around a hundred years ago had invented it when he got sick of transcribing every single ward he had to break by hand. The spell was directly connected to the will of the user, just like any piece of magic really, except it interpreted the users thoughts even more specifically than say, the _accio_ spell. And while Rita Skeeter's favorite quill was useful, it was limited to voice activation and transcription of spoken language, and the problem with Runes was that it was only a written language. Sure, some of the structures had names to describe what they were, but the individual runes didn't have special names, only meanings, because giving them a name was pointless.

Dumping the bottle of ink over the paper, he watched as the spell caught the liquid and made it float above the surface. Seeing that it was working properly, he ignored it and started reading through the levitation charm in front of him. As his brain acknowledged and 'read' each rune, the spell on the paper moved the ink to match. It was an interesting process of which he didn't completely understand the intricacies, but he was happy enough with it just working for him.

It took him five minutes to read through the entire levitation charm and then double check that he hadn't missed anything. Maneuvering the fruit bowl back onto the counter, he deactivated his rune sight and glanced over the large paper in front of him.

The ink was still floating, formed into an exact replica of the levitation charm he'd just finished examining. Smiling triumphantly, he cast the second half of the spell that let the ink settle into the paper and admired his handiwork. Glad that he'd had the foresight to learn the spell before he actually _needed_ it for something, he wandlessly tore the large sheet of paper from the book and settled it on the floor beside him.

It was nearly two hours later when he'd finished casting every single mobility charm, spell, or curse that he knew of. Happy with the pool of spells from which he could extrapolate ideas and draw comparisons, he rolled up the spell sheets and tucked them away into his trunk, where he knew no one would be able to get at them. He had other homework to do, but he felt a lot better now that he'd actually made some headway on the project he'd been procrastinating.

Unfortunately, twenty minutes into his Healing homework he got a call. Letting out an irritated sigh, he checked the number and frowned when he didn't recognize it. Who was calling him?

"Hello?" he spoke into the receiver after he'd flipped it open and accepted the call.

"Obsidian? It's Caylor."

Cyrus's eyelids fell closed and he slouched in his seat. Great. "Hey." When had the werewolf gotten his magi-com number? Maybe Remus had given it to them. It made sense that they wouldn't always have the time to get Xanthir to find Cyrus and bring him over.

"We have a bit of a situation over here. I need you to come immediately."

Alphas and their demanding nature. "What are the injuries?" he asked, already up on his feet and getting some stuff together. He'd put a healing kit together when it occurred to him that it might be a smart idea to have supplies, and he added bits to it every time he went shopping. In fact, later on that week he had to go pick up some supplies for Svea that he'd ordered on Monday, and while he was at it he was planning to pick up some more healing materials.

He grabbed the duffel bag from underneath the foot of his bed.

"We have a few poisonings and… an inferius bite."

Cyrus cussed under his breath. Shit. Those had to be dealt with quickly. Since his own unfortunate experience with a zombie bite (which Svea told him he'd been very lucky to survive), he'd done some research and asked the Healer some questions on how to properly heal the bites. Apparently there were more ways than one. "I'll have to deal with the zombie bite first. Are they in the usual healing room?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Caylor grunted. "Yes."

Cyrus nodded, then remembered the werewolf couldn't exactly see him. "Right. I'll be there in a few seconds." He hung up and disapparated.

The room he arrived in was chaotic, to say the least. A few seconds after they all realized he was there, however, they clamored for his attention. Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "Calm the hell down!" he barked, getting a headache from all their yammering and agitated magic. Ever since he'd come back from that week with Gyrdrich, he'd noticed he was far more sensitive to those kinds of things. "Where's the zombie bite? I need to deal with that first."

Thankfully, one of the men in the room had the common sense to snap out of his headless chicken behavior and lead him over to a patient that wasn't looking very good in the least. Cursing, Cyrus placed his bag down and pulled the blankets away from the open and blackened wound. This… did not look good. A flick of his wrist opened the duffel bag and another brought a bottle of disinfectant to his hand. The muggle method of disinfecting was actually a lot more efficient than magically, because magic didn't see germs in the same way that humans did. The spells they did have weren't all that efficient, either.

After cleaning his hands thoroughly, he summoned the bottle of peroxide and wandlessly opened it and maneuvered the liquid into the air. It was easier for him to do everything wandlessly, as he wouldn't have to keep disinfecting his hands every time he touched something. Moving quickly, he cast a restraining spell on the woman and dumped the peroxide on the open wound before the werewolf knew what hit her.

She screamed, and Cyrus ignored it. The great thing about peroxide and zombie bites was that the muggle disinfectant actually helped lift the hold the death magic had on the flesh. Cyrus had no idea why, as he'd basically blanked out when Svea started talking about chemistry and weird compound-whatsits, but as far as he was concerned, if it worked who cared why? That was for people like Hermione and Svea to figure out.

After he'd thoroughly cleaned the wound, he put the bottle back in his duffel bag and started the painfully annoying process of yanking the death magic from the wound and forcing it back into nature. Svea himself neutralized the death magic with a special kind of healing magic that was its direct opposite, but Cyrus hadn't really had the time to spend four months learning how to produce it himself, so he settled for the other viable options. One, he could 'eat' the death magic, or two, he could cycle it back into the earth like he'd learned from Gyrdrich. The second option was better because he could manipulate the flow of death energies outside himself without having to completely change which core he was working with. It was impossible to heal when he had death magic flowing through his channels. When Gyrdrich had first discovered the way Cyrus's body dealt with its large quantities of magic, he found it fascinating. According to the little fire demon, most people could access both cores whenever they wished with no problems.

Just one more thing that made Cyrus weird, he supposed.

Drawing the death magic out of the wound, he cycled it back into nature before it could act up and get pissy with him at being pulled from its food. One of the behaviors of death magic was that it absolutely _loved_ to eat living things. If it had living energy, death magic in its natural form would consume it without a pause. That was why zombie bites were so dangerous. If it 'ate' enough living energy in you, you basically turned into something worse than a corpse.

Once he'd finished ripping the stubborn death magic from the woman's arm, he focused on bringing as much life energy back to the dead flesh as possible by doing a mix of cycling blood through the wound and nudging the cells in the right direction with his magic. One of the things he'd learned about magic, life, and healing during his time at Shikaan was that as long as the soul was still in the body, a shit load of things could be fixed, no matter how mangled the body. If the soul left, you had a corpse on your hands, but if you caught before then, a team of healers could pull somebody back from the brink. Cyrus's brain had nearly exploded when he first learned that this was possible and Svea had taught it to them in class to help increase the life expectancy of their patients.

Having finished bringing life back to the dead flesh, he knitted the ravaged bite back together, reconnecting the broken capillaries as he went. A few minutes later, the wound was completely healed, though Cyrus wrapped it with a bandage anyway and told the sweating woman to be careful with it for a few days until the flesh set and didn't rip back open.

Letting out a sigh, already feeling a little tired from the healing, Cyrus pulled himself out of the chair and went to find the next patient. He spent the next four hours healing people, and by the time he was allowed to leave, it was nearly midnight and he was not a happy camper. One of the poisoned pack members had died because he wouldn't let Cyrus heal him before taking care of his daughter.

Letting out a tired sigh, he dumped his duffel bag at the foot of his bed and stripped, crawling under the covers in only his suit. He didn't even want to think about the homework that hadn't gotten done that night.

_oOo_

"TARA!"

Cyrus snapped awake in moments, dazed and confused as to why Xanthir was pitching a fit in his bedroom on a Wednesday morning. Then he saw Tara underneath the covers with him. Groaning, he rolled over. "Take it outside!" he snapped, wanting to get a little more sleep before facing reality that morning.

"Aw, is little Cy-Cy tuckered out from a long, steamy night of-"

"He was with the pack last night, Tara!" Xanthir shouted again, irritation rising to new heights.

"Oooh, gang bang?"

Cyrus removed the troublesome vampire from his bed with a well-aimed foot. Unfortunately, she took his blanket with her. Cold, annoyed, and not in the mood for crap, he blew up his table with a wandless Reducto. Xanthir had to drop to the floor to avoid the shrapnel, but unfortunately Tara was already protected by his bed. In the ensuing silence, Cyrus sat up with a glare on his face. "Now. What the hell are the two of you doing making a racket in my bedroom, at-" he checked the time, "5 in the morning."

Xanthir looked like a kicked puppy. "Tara super glued my ass cheeks together."

Cyrus stared at him for a whole ten seconds of disbelief before turning to Tara, who had peaked her head up from behind his bed with a grin. "Seriously?" he asked her, beginning to wonder why he still questioned her bouts of insani- er, immaturity.

She just cackled quietly, ominously, and vanished into the shadow on the floor. Xanthir cursed in at least five different languages before he ran out the door and tried to find her again.

As soon as he was well and truly gone, Tara reappeared from the shadow of his bed and plopped back onto his mattress, yanking the blanket up and over her with a happy sigh. "He won't be back for a while," she said, snickering to herself.

Cyrus gave her a Look.

Her expression was one of pure innocence. He didn't believe it for a second. "So Cyrus, how are things? You have a good time last night?" her smile morphed into a fanged grin.

Cyrus snorted. "If you call healing for five hours straight a 'good time'."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? Five hours? Ouch. That must have sucked. What happened?"

The human shrugged. "I dunno. They never tell me that stuff. There was one zombie bite and more poisonings."

"Aaah. The Dorcas poison. Anyone die?"

"Yeah."

"That blows. On the bright side, did you know that they finally caught the bastard supplying it?"

Cyrus took in a startled breath and choked on his own spit. Using magic, he flushed the liquid out of his trachea. "Are you serious? How- when the hell did that happen?"

She grinned. "Late last night. I wanted to tell you then, actually, but you were knocked out."

"So, what happened?" he prodded when she paused dramatically.

She pouted. "Can't a woman tell a story at her own pace? Yeesh. I shouldn't even be telling you, technically, but we all went to Dorcas's together and you deserve to know as much as anyone. He's in the custody of the Bast clan, and we're trying to get information out of him. So far the interrogators have nothing, but they're hopeful they can crack him. If we nip this in the bud, we'll also have the werewolves owing us one."

Cyrus made a thoughtful sound. "So, how does that work exactly? How can an entire species be in the debt of another?"

Tara shrugged. "I have no fuckin' clue how it works. Usually the High Priests and Lady Bast deal with that shit, though. I just know about this 'cause my aunt's an attorney and pretty important."

Cyrus hummed. It wasn't often that Tara shared anything about herself with him. It wasn't much, but now he knew that her aunt had some political clout in the clan. Why Tara didn't herself, though… that was something he hadn't figured out yet.

Sighing, he pushed himself into a sitting position. Damnit. He was wide-awake now. No point in trying to go back to sleep.

_oOo_

He got a call halfway through Runes class from Remus, and had to cast a silencing ward around him so he could answer it. Rivehn gave him a Look, but Cyrus knew that Remus wouldn't call him during a class unless it was important. The werewolf had his schedule.

"Uh, Remus?"

"_Oh good, you picked up. Severus and I won't be at Spinner's End anymore, just so you know."_

Cyrus blinked. "Huh? What happened?"

"_Dumbledore paid us a visit. When we wouldn't tell him where you were, we had to make a quick getaway through the shadows. He- there's something he wants to tell you about. Said it was important. He threatened us when we wouldn't give him any information."_

"Shit. What kind of information?"

"_I don't know, but I could smell the fear on him. Either he's telling you the truth and he has some important information to give you, or he's just trying to catch you."_

"How did he even find Spi- your house?"

"_I don't know. Severus is looking into it. In the meantime, we're somewhere safe."_

Cyrus's eyes widened, and he stared at the desk in front of him unseeingly. "How safe?" he asked, wondering where the hell they were.

"_Safe enough. It's one of my werewolves' houses."_

Cyrus floundered for a second before his brain kicked into overdrive. "There are some Potter properties that I haven't had the time to look at yet. Do you want to stay there instead? From what I saw of the papers, some have decent wards."

Remus hummed thoughtfully. _"That may be a good idea. Where can I meet you?"_

"Gringotts, at…" he did a mental check. "One."

"_Alright. I'll see you then."_ He hung up.

Cyrus quickly hung up himself and slipped his magi-com back into his pocket, ignoring the glances at him and the way Rivehn was giving him looks. What was the point of making a ruckus by running out of the room when he could just slap up a silencing ward.

He loved magic.

_oOo_

Later that afternoon, once classes were done for the day, Cyrus grabbed everything he needed for a visit to Diagon Alley. He had some other errands to run for Svea besides the stuff that he'd had to order, and he figured he might as well do it at the same time he visited Remus.

Hopping into his trunk, he slowed his fall with a bit of magic and landed in a crouch. Going to the back of the bookshelf-filled room, he pulled open the wardrobe that he usually ignored, for the most part. On the far left side hung all his wizard clothes, while the right was stuffed full of clothes that Tara had 'picked up' for him from time to time (read: party clothes). The outfit he'd worn to his first date with Ashawyn was in there somewhere, along with a couple other things he'd worn. Most of them, however, had never seen the light of day.

What had she been thinking when she'd bought him a leather harness and g-string, anyway?

Digging through the left side of the wardrobe, he tried to find a high collared robe with full sleeves to hide his suit. Skin-tight clothing wasn't exactly approved in wizarding society, after all. Which was completely different than the half-naked faes that he'd seen at his school.

Finally, he found a robe that was mostly black with a couple of maroon accents. He slipped into the ensemble easily enough, feeling awkward with the bloody cape hanging off his shoulders and the tightness in his chest. Had he really buffed up that much since he bought the thing? He'd gotten it large, too! Sighing, he transfigured the buckle in the front to be longer so it wouldn't pull so much. The dress shirt underneath, which was supposed to have been loose as well, clung to his muscles.

Oh well, wasn't like he was going to take the cloak off.

Attaching his utility belt on the outside of his new clothes, he double-checked that he had everything he needed before wandering into the bathroom to change his face. Brown hair, brown eyes… that should be about right. He didn't look like Harry Potter at all without the glasses and longer hair, after all. He'd been keeping it somewhat short to keep the mess to a minimum.

Triple checking that he had everything he needed, he disapparated to Diagon Alley.

It was busy and loud when he popped in, so he quickly moved from the apparition point to make room for the next person. Slipping through the crowd, he tried to avoid bumping into too many people as he made his way to Gringotts.

Considering Voldemort was on the loose and had attacked the Ministry, everyone seemed chipper enough. He'd probably been laying low for the last while. Cyrus read the Daily Prophet at Shikaan every once in a while, along with a few other newspapers, and there hadn't been any news of raids or Dark Mark sightings.

Exactly what _had_ Voldemort been up to for the past year, anyway? He couldn't have been doing nothing. That wouldn't be Dark Lordly. At least, whatever he'd been doing hadn't hit the papers. Sure, a few raids here and there, and one attempt on the Ministry, but other than that he'd been positively behaving himself.

It made Cyrus suspicious.

"Oh, excuse me, but do you happen to know where I can find some obsidian rock in Diagon Alley? No one else seems to."

Cyrus turned to the woman who had spoken to him and his eyes widened slightly. _Remus?_ He'd disguised himself as a woman? That took dedication right there. He'd nailed the quiet, soft-spoken type perfectly, too. "Have you tried the goblins? Perhaps they own some land with obsidian mines on it."

The woman smiled, and they started walking up the stairs of Gringotts together. "You look like you might still be in school. Don't you have classes?"

Cyrus blinked before remembering that he hadn't told Remus about him getting kicked out of Necromancy. "Well, I don't have any more classes this afternoon because my teacher kicked me out of that class."

Light blue eyes widened in surprise. "Really? How did that happen?"

Cyrus shrugged. "Apparently I was a danger to the other students. I've got a private instructor now, though, so hopefully I'll still be able to take the test at the end of the year. It's either that or repeat it." Which was something he definitely didn't want to do.

"That's too bad," she said, a sympathetic expression on her face.

They waited in line for a short while, as it was after lunch and most of the rush had gone back to work. When they finally got up to a goblin, Cyrus pulled his key out and laid it on the counter.

The goblin gave him a close once-over and sneered. "Which vault today, sir?"

How he had managed to make 'sir' sounds so insulting Cyrus would never know. "All of them, thank you," he said politely, keeping his face smooth in spite of the goblin's irritability. Thankfully, the banker did nothing more than summon another goblin to take them to Cyrus's vault.

The ride was rough, as per usual. Cyrus took a moment to refill his pouch with money from his trust fund before they continued deeper into the bank, where his family vaults were. Remembering where the trunk of properties was from their last trip, it didn't take them long to find it again. Once they did, they started sorting them into piles of 'definitely not' and 'maybe'. It was distinctly odd interacting with a female Remus for a while, but eventually he got used to it.

"So, how'd you know it was me?" he asked, tossing another file in the 'definitely not' pile.

Remus smiled. "I could smell you."

Oh, right. Cyrus would have to be more careful to disguise his scent in the future. It was quite easy to forget when you yourself didn't have such a strong sense of smell.

"Oooh, this sounds heavenly," Remus said suddenly. "Can you imagine living in Italy at a summer vacation home? Severus wouldn't like the sun, but it would be a gorgeous-"

Cyrus plucked the file out of his hand and looked it over for a moment before grinning, conjuring a piece of twine to keep the papers from falling out, and slipping it into a bottomless bag. "I've always wanted a vacation home," he said with a grin before going back to the sorting.

Remus just laughed.

As it turned out, the Potters were a lot richer than Cyrus had first thought. Well, in land at least. Most of the properties had returned to the Potter family as their branches of the bloodline died out and there was no one else to inherit them. As a result, the Potter estate had accumulated quite a few wizarding homes all over the place. Once Remus picked which one they wanted, they'd be set.

Hell, Cyrus would probably just give it to them. It wasn't like he needed it, after all.

When Remus had finally decided on a house that appealed to his needs, they went back into the caverns where their ride was waiting not-so-patiently. It was even bumpier on the way back up, if that was even possible, and even Cyrus, who was usually quite eager to test out new rides, was glad to get off.

He and Remus said their goodbyes at the doors of Gringotts, as Cyrus had more errands to do and Remus had a property to get warded. Just when he was walking by Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, he was stopped by one of the twins.

"Hey, you sir! You seem like the kind of wizard who enjoys a good prank. We're having a special today! What say you to a little fun at other people's expense?" he called out jovially.

Cyrus blinked and looked over. "Ah, sorry, but I have errands to run today."

"Now, now, you don't seem to be in such a hurry. Come take a look! We've got 15% off all store merchandise!" When Cyrus paused and seemed to consider, the twin grinned and walked out to take him by the arm and lead him inside. "The fireworks are particularly crackin' today, good sir. We've got dragons, unicorns, trolls-"

The door clicked shut behind them, and Cyrus immediately felt magic in the door activate. Before he could think of a reason for that, however, he found spells racing at him from twin wands. Cursing under his breath, he rolled to the side and cast his full body shield. Luckily, in this situation he didn't need to worry about dodging inhumanly powerful punches or sharp blades. A stupefy bounced off his hastily-cast shield and hit the closer twin in the face, knocking him unconscious. The other twin, however, used the counter as a shield and kept casting spell upon spell from behind it. Running forward, he avoided most of the spells except for a few that broke upon his shield and parted around him like water. Unused to combat, the twin froze in shock when he saw Cyrus jumping over the counter at him. Before the twin could use his head, Cyrus had grabbed it and used his momentum to crack his skull against the wall. It certainly wasn't the typical wizard's way of knocking out assailants, but Shikaan taught you adaptability, creativity, and gave you hands-on experience, which was more than could be said for any Hogwarts student.

Letting out a sigh, he looked back and forth between the two redheads. This was going to be highly unpleasant, awkward, and frustrating. He could tell already. Cussing under his breath, he moved the 'open' sign to 'closed' with a flick of his wrist and locked the door. He supposed if it came down to it Snape or Remus could obliviate them. He had no experience with that spell himself.

Grabbing the two bodies, he disapparated with them to a small and little-known graveyard in Other Realm. After all, it was unlikely that they had ever been across the dimensional break, and therefore they wouldn't know how to get back to Human Realm.

It was only after he had removed their wands, their back-up wands, and any other items on their bodies that could be a portkey or a prank, _and_ restrained them with at least four spells each that he finally woke the twins up. It took them a moment to shake off their grogginess, but when they noticed Cyrus sitting on a headstone across from them, their expressions darkened. It didn't help that he'd tied them up, of course. He could see the moment when they tried to disapparate, too, because their eyes widened, and the magic discharged from the failed attempt brushed against his skin.

"Blimey! Did you have to hit my head so hard?" the twin on the right complained.

Without a word, Cyrus went over and pulled his chin upward to check for a concussion. Seeing that his pupils looked okay, he put his other hand on the bump and healed it, ignoring the insults and questions sent his way. When he finished, he moved back to his headstone and sat down.

The twins were watching him suspiciously.

"So, Harry. Why don't you-"

"-take off that glamour? No point-"

"-in wearing it anymore, right?"

Cyrus said nothing. Yes, he was in a glamour that was neither Cyrus Obsidian nor Harry Potter, but he saw no point in changing his appearance again. It would take concentration that he was currently focusing solely on the problem that sat before him. Or rather, problems, as there were two of them.

When they started twitching and trading looks again, he knew his silence had unnerved them.

"So… you gonna kill us, Harry?"

Cyrus tilted his head and watched them, assessing. Really, he had no idea what he was going to do with them yet. But he _did_ want to know how they knew it was him. "Why'd you attack me?" he asked calmly, emotionlessly. Maybe he could get them to second-guess themselves.

"Enough with the crap, we saw you-"

"-on the map, so we know it's you."

Cyrus made sure to show nothing on his face. "And what map is this?"

"Like the marauders' map, but for-"

"-Diagon Alley. We made it a month-"

"-ago, hoping to catch Death Eaters, but-"

"-we didn't expect our net to catch-"

"-_the_ Harry Potter." They glared at him. "You killed Ron."

Cyrus resisted the urge to sigh. "Ron's death was an accident, and Dumbledore hardly told you the entire story. Since when does he share anything more than that grandfatherly twinkle? I doubt you have gotten any more information from him than the little you've managed to pilfer with your extendable ears." Yes, he was blowing his cover, but if it came down to it he could knock them out again, tie them up, and get Snape to wipe this whole thing from their memories. Back up plans were nice.

"So you admit that Ron's death-"

"-was your fault!"

Cyrus wanted to smack the Gryffindors' heads together.

"Why did you leave a giant snake-"

"-running loose in Hogwarts?"

"Why did you abandon the Wizarding World?"

"Where have you been for the past year?"

Cyrus was getting a headache. "SILENCE!" he barked, using his best 'I'm the Healer in this pack and you had better shut the fuck up right now before I castrate you and reattach your junk upside down' voice. Thankfully, they shut up. Unfortunately, they were now looking at him like he was some psycho, mass-murdering baby-eater. "Are you going to listen to what I have to say or run off the mouth without any proof of anything like typical Gryffindors?"

They glared, but didn't say anything.

"Your brother died because he was going to kill a friend of mine with the Aveda Kedavra curse," Cyrus explained slowly and carefully, not a hundred percent sure that he was doing the right thing in telling them. "But only _after_ he had sufficiently tortured them with the Cruciatus curse."

The twins stared at him for a second before glaring. "That's a load of crock right there-"

"-Ron would never use the Unforgiveables."

Cyrus told himself to have patience before he started blowing things up. "Yes, just like Dumbledore wouldn't capture and restrain me in the dungeons of Hogwarts," he drawled sarcastically. "Just like Dumbledore wouldn't put a serf compulsion on me when I was little more than a child to make sure I'd be willing to take care of the Dark Lord problem that _he_ had a hand in creating in the first place. Yes, these people are just too _Light_ to do anything horrible."

They glared at him. "We're not believing this-"

"-rubbish without some proof!"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "How about I go get a pensieve then." When they said nothing, he disapparated to his rooms, grabbed the stone basin, and then apparated back to the graveyard. Conjuring a table with a wave of his hand, he set the pensieve on it and pulled out his wand. Holding the white oak wand to his forehead, he focused on his time in the dungeon, with both Dumbledore and Ron.

Once the long string of milky memory was removed, he dropped it into the bowl and sheathed his wand again. The twins were watching him with wide eyes. "Now, do you care to learn the truth of it or are you going to continue to stubbornly believe that every Light person in this world is a _good _person."

The twins bumped their heads together and seemed to watch him thoughtfully for a while. Were they communicating telepathically or something because they were magical twins? It would make sense.

"Get us out of these bonds-"

"-and we will look at this memory."

Having already disarmed them and put their wands in his pocket, Cyrus merely nodded and waved his hand at the ropes. They disappeared, and the twins didn't try anything. One of them put their head in the bowl while the other stood guard and watched him suspiciously, and it only confirmed Cyrus's thought that their minds had to be connected in some way.

Ten minutes later, the twin pulled his head out of the bowl and shared a sad glance with one another. "So we see that Ron wasn't-"

"-as good a brother as he should've been-"

"-but what's this about a serf bond? Dumbledore's-"

"-not some medieval Lord who needs you to-"

"-groom the fields for him."

Cyrus sat back down on his headstone. "I did some research on it once an accomplished Occlumens explained to me what it is that was wrong with my mind." Which was true. He _had_ researched it at Shikaan a while ago during his free time, and Severus was an Occlumens. "It was used back in feudal days when the Lords wanted to ensure their serfs' fidelity. The serf compulsion allowed them control of that. I don't know how old I was when Dumbledore cast it on me, but it was before I came to Hogwarts. A teacher of mine believes that it may have happened when I was a baby." Which was also true, since Rivehn had told him that his state as a _fractus mens_ might have been caused or aggravated by the compulsions.

"Dumbledore did that to you?" When Cyrus nodded, they traded a long look. "Alright, we're sorry for-"

"-jumping you like that, Harry."

"It's just, with Bill missing and-"

"-Dumbledore not willing to do anything-"

"-we've been rather high strung lately-"

"-and when we saw you on the Diagon map-"

"-we just sort of…"

"Lost it." They nodded at each other and sent him apologetic looks.

Cyrus let out a relieved breath and slumped in his chair before the thing with Bill clicked in and he tensed again. "Wait, what? Bill's missing?"

They nodded gravely. "Been missing since the beginning of March."

Cyrus stared. "And Dumbledore's done _nothing_ to find him?" They nodded gravely. "And no one knows where he is or who took him?"

"Well, everyone thinks it's U-no-poo-"

"-but there's no evidence-"

"-no Dark Mark above his and-"

"-Fleur's house in France."

"Some other people went missing-"

"-the same night, but the only connection-"

"-is that they've all worked together before-"

"-on Egyptian curse breaking."

Curse breaking? Egypt? What the hell would Voldemort need curse breakers for? If it was even him. Like the twins had said, there was no evidence. "What are you guys going to do about it?" he asked, seeing the fire in their eyes.

"We've been doing some digging-"

"-and we think we might have someone-"

"-who saw them in Egypt at a tomb-"

"-a while back, and we think if we're lucky-"

"-we can catch them the next time-"

"-they go to it and save Bill."

Cyrus stared at them. They hadn't even graduated from Hogwarts – not that he had a lot of respect for that curriculum – and they were hoping to take on kidnappers and save their brother? That took a lot of guts. "And what's your plan for when you find out where they are?"

They shrugged. "Don't have a plan yet, but-"

"-now that you're here we were-"

"-planning on asking you." They stared at him with pleading expressions.

Cyrus ran a hand through his hair. "Look, guys-"

"Please, Harry. With the recent losses-"

"-in the Order, Dumbledore might do nothing."

"He's our brother."

Cyrus let out a breath and thought about it. "You guys aren't going to go running back to Dumbledore and tell him I've been here, are you?" he asked. Not that they had any information on him, or Remus.

"Merlin, no. He wouldn't even-"

"-look for Bill. Said it was a waste of-"

"-resources, the old bastard. Your-"

"-secret's safe with us."

"Marauder's honor," they said, crossing their arms over their chests.

Cyrus smiled. "Thanks. Be careful of Dumbledore, okay? He can read minds."

The twins just grinned. "How do you think-"

"-we got away with so many pranks-"

"-with Snape around, eh?"

The Shikaan student blinked for a second before laughing slightly. "You guys are Occlumens?"

"Yep."

"That must have pissed Snape off quite a bit." Cyrus laughed for a moment before trailing back off into thought. If it were his family, he'd do anything to save them, and just because Ron had turned on him didn't mean that the rest of the Weasleys deserved to suffer for it. "I can't make any commitments," he began, ignoring the grins that spread across their faces, "but when you find out where he is, get in contact with Remus. He'll be able to forward the message to me."

"How do we get a hold of Professor Lupin?"

"One second." Cyrus pulled out his magi-com and speed-dialed 3. It rang twice before Remus picked up. "Hey Remus. I need a way for some friends in the area to get in contact with you to get a message through to me. Is there an easy way to go about that?"

"_They could owl me. I'm assuming these friends are in magical Britain?"_

"Yeah. Fred and George."

"…"

"Look, it wasn't expected, but I explained a few things, and I think they're willing to . So, can they owl you?"

"_Is it time sensitive?"_

Cyrus blinked. "This whole thing's rather time sensitive, right? I mean, you get confirmation, and you're out of here." When they nodded, he said "Yes" into the receiver.

"_Very well. I'll give them a two-way mirror."_

"Thanks, Remus."

"_You just be careful, alright?"_

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "I'm always careful, Remus, it's the _world_ that's not careful."

The werewolf snorted. _"I'll see you later, Cyrus."_

"See you." He hung up.

The twins were looking at him with wide eyes. "Where can we get one of those?" they asked at the same time.

Cyrus laughed. "I'm afraid there aren't any suppliers in Britain. Tough luck."

They pouted for a minute before turning serious again. "So, we're owling Remus?"

"No. He's going to bring you a two-way mirror. Just keep in mind that I'm rather busy, and if I'm swamped with shit when I get your message, I may not be able to help."

They nodded. "Thanks, Harry."

Cyrus grabbed the memories from the pensieve and dissolved them. It was easier to do that than try to put them back in his head, as they were only copies and not actually the original memory. Shrinking the pensieve, he put it in his bottomless bag.

"Keep in touch, eh?"

Cyrus nodded and tossed them their wands. They fumbled to catch them. "I have to take you back to Diagon Alley, now," he said, holding out his hands.

They stared at him. "We can get there ourselves, thanks."

"Just take down the anti-apparition wards."

Cyrus shook his head. Explain that Other Realm was another dimension and apparating across the gap took practice? Nah. "It's a little more complicated than an anti-apparition ward, and I have no control over it." There, he wasn't lying. "Now come on, before you splinch yourselves."

They traded looks before grabbed his hands, and Cyrus took them back to their shop.

He still had to pick up that crap for Svea.

_oOo_

The rest of the week went by okay. Yalmireth and he had some tutoring sessions, and Cyrus learned some interesting things about how demon culture worked. For the most part, all he was learning was how to identify the different classes, as it required a lot of background information in order to decipher.

On Saturday morning, however, he found himself on edge in anticipation of Ashawyn's project that afternoon. Instead of snapping at his friends, though, he settled for sleeping in, eating a small breakfast in his room, and then heading to one of the larger training centers on campus with the hope of finding someone to spar against. He needed to burn off some energy.

As it turned out, there weren't a lot of people there on a Saturday morning. All the people really anal about their usual workout schedules were usually there earlier, and anyone sleeping in didn't show up until before or after lunch, so Cyrus found himself stuck in one of the dead periods. Sure it was nice to have the facilities to himself, but he'd come here to _spar_ with someone.

Sighing, he went over to the corner with the mats and started stretching. Once he'd finished stretching and had run around the track a couple times to get his heart pumping, he slowly and methodically worked his way through all the forms of martial arts that he knew before moving on to the sword. He'd only gotten it yesterday, as Ouragan had finally decided that their class was ready enough to begin handling practice weapons. Some of the students already knew how to handle weapons, but Ouragan didn't let them stay with that weapon in his class. As far as he was concerned, if you had the teacher there anyway, you might as well take advantage of it and learn another weapon.

Working through the single form that he'd been shown on Friday, he tried to remember all the things that the sword instructor had shouted out. Each weapon had its own private teacher, as Ouragan couldn't teach that many students more than ten different weapons in one class. He'd picked the sword because 1) Xanthir could wield it, so if Cyrus had questions he could just ask him, and 2) it was one of the most popular and basic weapons, so it would be beneficial to have some level of competency with it.

"Your form is terrible."

Cyrus blinked and stopped, turning to see a guy standing there with a dark look on his face. What was _his_ problem? Usually no one bothered him when he came here to practice. Normally he preferred one of the smaller gyms, but he'd never been approached and insulted before. Most students were content to mind their own business unless they were trying to start shit. Cyrus for the most part had been able to avoid such conflicts.

Maybe his lucky streak was over. "Really? I'm not surprised," he said as genially as he could, suppressing his annoyance at the interruption, "we just started on weapons yesterday."

The guy tilted his head to the side, eyeing Cyrus up and down in a way that made the human feel slightly uncomfortable. He didn't say anything, though, just kept watching Cyrus in that creepy kind of way.

"Is there… something you wanted?"

Mr. Creepy stared at him for a little longer before falling into a fighting stance without a word. Cyrus stared back for a moment before wandlessly sending his wooden practice sword over to where his bag sat protected by proximity alarms. Most students were smart enough not to steal shit at Shikaan, but that didn't mean it never happened.

"What kind of spar?"

"No magic, no special abilities. Just physical combat."

Shrugging, Cyrus nodded and slipped into a fighting stance, wondering exactly how this battle would turn out. "First blood?" he asked.

Mr. Creepy shook his head. "We fight until a standstill, or when you want to stop. It is only a spar, not a duel."

Well, wasn't that a relief. After he got into that fight with Top Asshole, he wasn't particularly interested in dueling anyone for a while. Or at least, not unless they had a better fucking reason than 'people think you're better than me, so I'm going to prove them wrong.' It had been a stupid excuse to start a fight in the first place, but Guylan's way of handling the duel had been underhanded, with that ritual. Asshole.

Mr. Creepy attacked without warning but didn't bring out any special or mind-blowing moves that would knock Cyrus out in five seconds. Instead, the human found himself dodging a few punches and kicks that seemed just a bit slow. After a few minutes of awkward sparring – they weren't used to each other yet, and spars never went as seamlessly as the choreographed fight scenes he'd seen in a couple movies at the Dursleys' – they slowly fell into a rhythm and Cyrus began to enjoy himself. Mr. Creepy wasn't here to kill him, they were just-

Cyrus froze up for a moment, remembering the assassin that had been after him for a while now. It couldn't… but that would be too obvious. Out in the open. So far his would-be killer hadn't shown Cyrus his (or her?) face, and had mostly used poison or necromancy to try to off him.

Focusing on his magical senses, he searched for death magic in his vicinity.

Nothing. Well, that was a relief. It wasn't Mr. Creepy then.

Unfortunately, Cyrus's lack of focus was just the opening the guy needed to knock him on his back.

"Your form is pretty solid, but you should be more careful with leaving openings. If I were here to kill you, I could have done so many times." But the way he said it, accompanied by the hand offered to help him up, softened the words somewhat. It helped that Mr. Creepy, despite being _very_ good – Cyrus would have to be an idiot to not have noticed that – wasn't cocky and didn't ridicule him for his lack of experience and training.

But it didn't change the fact that Cyrus still needed to work harder. Shit. Focusing his attention back on the spar, he tried to keep his defense solid. Each fighter had their own style, and with Cyrus's purchase of the suit he'd learned to pick and choose what hits to let through his guard in order to save stamina or keep himself from being open to a more lethal attack. By adopting this style, he'd also started to use that new wandless shield that they'd been learning in Catchpool's class. The cool thing about that particular shield was that, since you had to control it manually, you could manipulate it to only protect your arm as you batted away a blade, for instance. It demanded a lot of control and concentration, but Cyrus was hoping with time he'd be able to make it a subconscious reaction to attacks.

The downside of incorporating that into his style, however, was that he'd become complacent with the purely physical aspects of fighting.

A fist came at his face. Yanked from his thoughts, he dodged. But not fast enough. At the last minute, he expelled magic from his face to protect him from the graze. The force of the punch moved his head to the side, but the magic cushioned the blow enough that it didn't hurt. Taking quick steps back, he found himself on the defensive. Punch, step to the side, block, kick, trip, roll back to the feet, repeat. Finally, the guy got him with a move he'd never seen before that had him face planting on the ground with Mr. Creepy on his back, keeping him immobile with an arm lock.

"Do you yield?"

Cyrus grunted. "Yeah."

The guy got off him without another word, and Cyrus pulled himself to his feet. Damn he was sore. Quickly healing some of the deeper bruises, he stepped away and got back into stance. The human immediately noticed that Mr. Creepy had changed into a form he didn't recognize. Sending out his senses, he stopped focusing so much on his vision and distributed some of his attention to the other senses. Part of his training with Gyrdrich had resulted in him being able to sense beings around him much more easily. He couldn't tell who was what species, but he was beginning to recognize familiar magical signatures. Since the guy had been getting continuously faster as their spar continued, he focused his senses on detecting the guy move.

A fist came from the right. Shit, how had Mr. Creepy moved that fast? He made a grab for the arm, hoping to toss the guy. No such luck. Instead, he found his feet knocked out from underneath him as the guy slipped inside his guard. Unable to catch his balance, he got caught in a locked hold before he knew it, with Mr. Creepy on top of him. Breathing heavily, he just lay there for a second to try to catch his breath.

Unfortunately, doing so made him acutely aware of the warm body sitting on top of him wearing nothing but shorts and a tunic. He wasn't even wearing shoes. Not to mention the fact that, since the guy's forearm was under his chin and holding his head in place, he could see a shapely bicep out of the corner of his eye and smell their collective sweat.

Damnit. He needed to focus. Was he really this bad? It must be his magical senses. Since they were open, the roiling body of magic on top of him felt far more attractive than it should have.

"Unless you are good at grappling, which you are not, I would suggest you avoid letting your opponent inside your guard. You must fight in a style that suits you. Your instincts are quick, but your body still does not quite know what to do with them." The guy released him from the hold and Cyrus let out a relieved breath.

"Again?"

Cyrus pulled himself off the ground and got into stance, telling his nerves to stop tingling like they'd just been groped.

They continued to fight for another hour before Cyrus got too tired (and horny) and had to call it quits. Mr. Creepy (who wasn't all that creepy anymore, really) went through a cool down routine with him, talking about different fighting techniques and styles, as well as things Cyrus needed to work on. The human was grateful for his advice, but he didn't quite understand why Tallish-Dark-and-Handsome was going out of his way.

So, after he had picked up his bag and they began to walk through one of the lesser-used corridors to the Main Hall, he decided to ask.

"Why?" his schoolmate asked with a small, amused smile, his dark eyes glinting with subdued good humor. He'd warmed up considerably as the fighting continued and they got more comfortable with one another, but he wasn't exactly rambunctious like Xanthir. "I have been looking for a new sparring partner. My last one died in some fighting tournament that apparently runs about this time every year."

Cyrus tilted his head and wiped some of the sweat from his face. His suit, even though it breathed, always got really hot when he worked out, even with the cooling charms he cast on himself. It needed a good washing today. "Really? Why would he compete in a tournament like that?"

The black-haired guy shrugged. "Maybe he felt the need to prove his strength to himself. Maybe he just liked the adrenaline rush. I do not know, really."

And that got Cyrus wondering. If this guy's old sparring partner was good enough to participate in a fighting competition, then why in the world had he wanted to spar with Cyrus? The human wasn't any good, really. "You're pretty good at martial arts, right?" he asked. His schoolmate nodded. "Why did you pick _me_ for a spar, then? There were a couple other people in the room that you could have picked. I'm only a first year, and from what everyone's seen at that fight with Troy Guylan, I'm not that good either."

The guy just watched him for a moment before laughing. It wasn't a full out laugh like Xanthir's, but a bit more subdued. "Guylan is hardly a measuring stick for any level of ability."

Cyrus frowned. What? "But I heard he's the most powerful human student at Shikaan…"

His fellow student just shook his head. "Hardly. He is the most _obvious_ human of any level of ability at Shikaan, but not the most powerful. For example, those who are interested in going into a career in espionage, or other related fields, would not be stupid enough to put themselves in the spotlight like Guylan. You should never judge another species by the one person who likes to show off." Here his eyes intensified, and Cyrus felt his body tense in anticipation. "Often it is those who do not flaunt their power who are more powerful."

Cyrus returned the guy's stare. "But you didn't answer my question."

The guy took a few steps closer, and suddenly Cyrus found himself backed up against a wall without his realizing it. How had- the guy had been completely non-threatening one second and now Cyrus felt like he was being stalked like prey.

A small smile quirked the other student's lips. "I see that I will have to be blunt with you." Cyrus felt just a little insulted at that, but he'd get over it if the guy just told him what the heck all this grand standing was for. "Due to my future career plans, I do not find it worth while to show off my abilities." From this close, Cyrus could see that the dark, nearly-black eyes were in fact a very rich, murky blue. "And as for why I wished to spar with you… You are a first year student with a lot of potential, from what I have seen, and I believe that we may be able to assist each other in the future."

Cyrus stared. This guy was proposing that they become allies. Sure, Tara had flaunted her connections to him in the past, but he'd never had it happen to _him_ before. Most of Shikaan seemed content to just watch. "Why do you want to become allies with a human?" Now he just needed to know the guy's _motive_.

But his fellow student just smiled slightly, eyes still focused on Cyrus intently. "Those who are blinded by prejudice are easily fooled," he said dismissively. "I am hardly one to follow such a path, especially considering that I am human myself… Mostly."

Cyrus stared. And this guy could move _that fast_ during their spar? Damn. He'd thought he was fighting a werewolf or something. Instead, he'd been fighting with a 'mostly' human who for some reason wanted to become allies with him.

"I can see you will need some time to think it over. As a sign of goodwill, I will leave you with some information." He leaned closer, putting his mouth right beside Cyrus's ear, setting the human's nerves on fire with a mix of fear and arousal at their close proximity. He could feel the heat and magic radiating from the student's body. Damnit. "Avoid eating your meals at the Hall for the next while, unless you want to die from another case of poisoning. You are very lucky that Pyralis Asteras is well versed in poisons and happened to be in your debt."

Cyrus froze shock still. "And how do you know that?" he asked breathily.

"It is common sense, really. You may not have noticed but he has been slipping you small quantities of poison for the past week. He had to raise the dosage when you proved surprisingly resilient."

"He? Do you know who it is?"

"No, I do not. He is surprisingly good at hiding his tracks, and as I still have not graduated I have not had the chance to take any intensive magic-tracking courses. I simply referred to them as 'he' to prevent confusion, really."

Cyrus made a vague sound of interest, still hyper aware of exactly how close the guy's body was to his own. The schoolmate pulled back, but not far enough. From such a close vantage, Cyrus could see the slivers of black in the guy's dark blue irises.

"Is it true that you are a magic sensitive?" he asked, head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes seemed to peel back layer after layer to see what lay beneath.

Cyrus choked slightly and tensed at the unexpected question. What did his being magic sensitive have to do with anything? And why the hell was the guy so close? Couldn't he give Cyrus some space? The constant staring was beginning to creep him out!

"I have always been curious… do you feel it when I do this?"

The sexual tension that had been building inside him for hours exploded as tendrils of magic raked up Cyrus's body, just nicking his fading arousal on the way up and hitting his nipples. Jesus fucking _Christ_. Even when Yankovich had sent his magic inside of Cyrus to find his death magic, it hadn't felt like this. No, it felt like that one time he'd tried a cock ring, experimented with the wizard version of Viagra, and had been out of his mind unable to come for ten hours except _ten times worse_ and he had no idea why and his magic just _exploded_ out of his body in agitation and reaction to the stimulation.

The dark-haired student groaned under the onslaught and increased his magical attack. Cyrus's dick hardened even further, if that was possible, as magical jolts of electricity raced through his channels like prostate stimulation, and Cyrus couldn't suppress the low groan that escaped him or stop himself from collapsing back against the wall as his muscles failed him under the onslaught of sensation. A leg caught him between his legs and held him upright even as two large, warm hands came to his hips and held him in place. The thigh grinding against his crotch was torture as the protective cup kept his aching dick from getting any real stimulation. Fuck. His logical brain was screaming in the back of his mind at him – what the hell was he thinking! – but each touch of magic sent another wave of sensation wreaking having on his nervous system and another wave of blood to his dick until that little voice was asphyxiated from lack of blood to his brain.

Two hands slipped up his sides to capture his hands, which were currently pressed weakly to the other student's chest from when he'd still had the cognizance to realize that he was in a public hallway where anyone could see him at any moment, and pulled them away to pin his wrists against the wall above his head. Unable to make a word of protest, white lights exploding across his vision and fireworks messing with the synapses in his brain, he could only moan softly as a set of lips descended upon his own and began to suck the air out of his lungs with sheer skill of tongue.

Another wave of magic licking up his sides and down his channels had him unintentionally keening and writhing against the wall and the hot, solid body pressed against his front. There was just so much magic and he couldn't- couldn't focus, couldn't get his arms to pull away, couldn't stop himself from moaning- just too much magic- too much stimulation and he could feel the impending orgasm and couldn't do anything to stop it because this was way worse than the time he'd seen Rivehn and Yankovich basically have sex in their clothes in front of him and-

A ragged moan tore itself from his throat and was promptly swallowed by the raven-haired adolescent's mouth as tendrils of magic surrounded his arousal through his pants and began to _move_. Hands flexing and body collapsing, he couldn't seem to gather the strength to move as his body began to coil in anticipation, muscles in his core tensing and releasing as the energy built and built until one last, quick jerk sent him over the edge and into orgasm, a moan wrenching itself from his chest as his entire body clenched under the assault for a suspended moment of electrifying pleasure before it ended too soon and he was crashing over the edge. Body twitching and spasming under the assault and force of his orgasm, Cyrus let his body fall limp like it wanted to, held up only by a knee between his legs and an arm holding his wrists above his head while the other hand clenched in the hair at the nape of his neck and teased his scalp.

And gods, the kiss. It was still going, except instead of tongue-fucking him with the same intensity devoted to their spar earlier, it had turned languid and relaxed… exploratory. Finally, when the last of his tremors had ceased, the black-haired adolescent pulled away with a small, hesitant smile, eyes searching his own for… something.

What it was, Cyrus had no idea. Fuck, he had no clue about anything. He'd just broken up with a fae because Ashawyn had been cheating on him and only thought about sex, and now here he was rutting up against some 'mostly'-human he had only known for three hours. He wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed, angry, or… frightened at how he had just taken control of the situation – of _Cyrus_ – like that. Had turned him into putty because of his magic sensitivity. And most of all, how much Cyrus had… liked it at the time. How much it had turned him on once his brain was suffocated from lack of blood and he'd been unable to fight-

What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Can you stand?"

Cyrus nodded slowly, getting back on his feet by his own strength. His limbs were slightly shaky, but he managed it okay. Staring at the other student, he wondered what was going to happen next.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Cyrus felt his cheeks warm under the scrutiny. This was… awkward.

"My name is Zackary." When Cyrus said nothing, blue eyes seemed to darken and a slight frown pinched his brow. "I… apologize if that was too forward of me. It was not my intention at first to… initiate anything, but I found our sparring to be very… stimulating." An absent wave of his hand in front of his crotch wouldn't have caught Cyrus's attention under normal circumstances, but in the context of the situation he realized that Zackary was cleaning the cum out of his pants with a wandless spell.

Well, at least he appeared somewhat uncomfortable. If he'd smiled smugly at his 'skills', Cyrus probably would have punched the guy. "Why'd you do that?" he asked instead, still unable to understand why the hell the other human had… well.

Zackary seemed the slightest bit amused. "Will I have to explain this to you bluntly as well?" he asked, slowly regaining his previous cool. The lack of arrogance, however, kept Cyrus from cursing his dick off. Instead, the guy somehow managed to be… endearing, even after the surprise orgasm he'd pulled out of Cyrus. "Anyone who cares at Shikaan knows that you are gay since you dated Ashawyn. I have to admit, however, that I was not interested until I fought against you."

Cyrus couldn't keep the 'what the fuck?' look off his face. "But I sucked!"

Zackary just smiled slightly and shook his head. "It is not your current ability that decides who will be a better warrior, but the drive to improve and the resources available to you. It also helps that your magic, when you are in the heat of battle, expands outside your body." His eyes searched Cyrus's own. "Do you have any idea how arousing it is to walk into a magical field of _your_ _potency?_"

Cyrus felt heat rush to his face. So what, now he was a walking sex magnet? Great. "So are you saying that you did that just now because my magic tickled you pink?" he asked somewhat snappishly.

Zackary watched him with that blank expression that Cyrus was beginning to associate with his 'thinking face'. "Do people not find partnership by physical appearance and chemistry? Is it so hard to believe that your magic can be the same?"

The green-eyed wizard's eyes narrowed. "So all you're attracted to is my power?"

For the first time, Zackary sighed. "No, that is not what I am trying to convey. Perhaps I shall make this simpler. I find you attractive. You find me attractive – do not deny it, I could see it in every line of your body while we fought and even afterwards. I acted on it – perhaps somewhat foolishly, as I came to you looking for an ally and not a bed partner; I can admit that at the very least. However, I realize now that I should not have acted on my attraction so boldly, as it has made you uncomfortable and caused you some alarm. I should not have assumed that you would be as willing to act on a mutual attraction merely because you have dated a fae for a month or two. My apologies."

And Cyrus watched in absolute bafflement as his fellow human bowed slightly at the waist with a somber expression on his face.

"I hope that you may look past my oversight and still consider my proposition to become allies." When Cyrus said nothing for a while, just stared at Zackary blankly – disbelievingly – the other student continued. "Perhaps it is best I leave you to think it over." Zackary bowed again (were the martial arts traditions that deeply ingrained?) and left with the distinctive _pop_ of disapparition.

Cyrus stood alone in the hallway, staring at the empty space where Zackary used to be.

This had to be the most bizarre post-sex scenario ever.

A beep sounded from his pocket and Cyrus frowned as he pulled it out. He felt like he was forgetting something.

_Hey Cy! I'm at your room_

_but you're not here. Are_

_you ready for the big day?_

_Me, I'm kind of nervous._

_Hope you get back soon,_

_Ash_

Cyrus's eyes bugged out as he let out a string of curses and disapparated to his room. Shit! He'd forgotten all about that!

Appearing in his room, Cyrus stripped out of his suit with no warning or care for the fae standing in front of him. Using a thorough cleaning spell that had to be cast when the garment was off, he got rid of the sweat and grime that had made the suit rather uncomfortable to wear for the past hour. It kept him well-protected, but damn was that shit uncomfortable. He didn't even want to imagine what wearing something like metal in the old days would have been like.

After that had been taken care of, he cast a thorough cleaning charm on himself (there were different charms for live beings, dead things, and animate objects. His suit happened to fall under the last category) and pulled the suit back on again.

Ashawyn, who had been standing there enjoying the view, whistled. "That didn't take long. Who's the lucky guy?"

Cyrus glared and reached under his bed for the bag he'd already packed full of salt, blood, texts, and his emergency bottomless bag. If there was anything he'd learned about zombies, it was 'come prepared for anything because if you can think of that shit going wrong, it _will_ go wrong. Along with some shit you _didn't_ think of.'

Suffice to say, he was about as prepared as he could be.

"Do you have to tell anyone where you're going before you leave?" Ashawyn asked thoughtfully.

Cyrus sighed, shrinking his bag and sticking it in one of the pouches on his utility belt as he went to the kitchen to grab a snack for the road. "I told Tara I was going to be with you this weekend." And Yankovich and Gyrdrich already knew, too. Well, not the details, but he'd had to go to Yankovich to get a message to Gyrdrich saying that he had something important that he'd forgotten about to do that weekend. He would have gone to Gyrdrich himself, but he had neither the Other Realm equivalent of a passport to get into that zone nor someone to ferry him in and vouch for him. As it was, the only pass he had allowed him into Caylor's pack's zone, as Shikaan and other neutral zones didn't require passes of any kind, and sneaking past the magical borders was nigh impossible.

Shoving the energy bar into his mouth, he did another mental check that he had everything before nodding to Ashawyn and holding out his arm for transport. The fae gripped his forearm with two hands, and then they were off with a burst of icy magic.

The graveyard that Ashawyn brought him to wasn't actually a graveyard but a tomb. A huge underground tomb filled with hundreds of the dead crammed into a very small space. Cyrus had never been claustrophobic after having been locked in a cupboard for the first ten years of his life at the Dursleys', but that didn't stop even him from feeling creeped out at the depressing atmosphere and the freaky blue mage lights that floated around and distinctly reminded him of the souls in that horror movie Dudley had forced him to watch one time.

"You're almost late, Ashawyn," Mikhail's familiar voice carried easily to them in the enclosed, echoing space.

Cyrus twitched. "That was my fault, sorry," he said, covering for Ashawyn. "I lost track of the time." Which was totally true.

Unfortunately, admitting that turned Mikhail's cool gaze on him. After a short staring contest, the elf looked away and motioned Cyrus to follow him. "You may sit over here, if you like. Ashawyn will need the space clear for his work."

The human followed him to a rather tall tomb and had to apparate to get on top of it, whereas Mikhail just jumped. He sat down as far as he could from the elf and watched Ashawyn with curious eyes as the fae worked. "So, what is he doing exactly?" he asked, his curiosity outweighing any past warnings Yankovich might have given him.

The elf made an interested hum. "It is a complicated process. He has been working on the array for quite some time, and only recently did I deem it good enough to work."

Cyrus frowned. "Array?"

"In the higher levels of necromancy, arrays, symbols, and rituals are necessary to keep the death magic under control and channeled correctly. If you have some experience with runes, rituals, or arithmancy, then it will be useful if you plan to get a mastery level."

Ah, right. Cyrus had heard about that kind of stuff vaguely in the books he'd read. Now that he was reminded, that essay he wrote about failed necromancers was beginning to come back to him. It seemed that it was a trend for necromancers to die when attempting higher-level workings of death magic, but that was hardly a surprise. He just hoped that Ashawyn hadn't fucked anything up.

Apparently most of the work had been done that morning before Ashawyn even came to get Cyrus, but that didn't mean that he wasn't left waiting as Ashawyn finished up the more time-sensitive portions of the array. From what he could see, the fae had drawn the designs in blood on the stone floor, and the walls of the tomb had been lined with salt. Not feeling completely safe about the whole thing, he asked Mikhail if he could put a salt circle around himself. The elf just shrugged and told him to not touch the lines of blood.

Cyrus waited patiently enough as Ashawyn started doing some weird things with his death magic. He was kind of intrigued, now, and vowed to ask the fae more about the ritual after it was over. When he was finally told to create a channel to send Ashawyn the death magic, he did so without a word. Ever since he'd spent that week with Gyrdrich, his death magic was so much easier to control. He still occasionally fed it into nature after sneaking deep into Shikaan's forest to protect the students, but it wasn't quite as ready to explode at any minute as it had two weeks ago.

Getting bored with just sitting there and pumping magic into Ashawyn, Cyrus opened his senses to the world to try to figure out what Ashawyn was doing. After watching for a few minutes, he frowned. There was something odd… he couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something odd about the flow of death magics. It almost seemed as if some of the energy was being leeched off, but he couldn't see what it was being leeched to. It was times like these he wished he could use his death magic and natural magic at the same time. If he could, he would have activated his rune sight to see if he could figure it out.

As it was, he had to stand there and watch as the death magic began to build to a peak, not knowing enough necromancy to know whether or not the ritual was going well or he should prepare to get the hell out of there.

And in a moment it no longer mattered.

Cyrus gasped as he felt a surge of death magic activate under his feet. What the- it wasn't coming from the blood array, it was coming from lower. Sending his senses into the ground, his eyes widened when he felt _another_ array at least ten feet into the ground. Stone ground. What the hell? Had Mikhail chosen a tomb where another necromancer used to work and hadn't noticed the giant fucking array built into the floor, walls, and _ceiling?_

He collapsed to the ground when a large surge of death magic was sucked out of him and into the tomb's array. He couldn't feel Ashawyn anymore, as death magic was flying all over the place, but he hoped the fae was alright. Unless he wanted something worse to potentially happen, he couldn't even move from this damn spot!

As the death magic piloted by the tomb's array began to build to a climax, Cyrus found his vision starting to spin and darken as all the death magic in his core was sucked out of it. For one suspended moment, there was no magic of any kind inside his body, until his magic exploded from its core with a vengeance and created a cocoon around his body. Without any death magic in his body, the turbulent energies around him could have easily killed him.

Unfortunately, he wasn't conscious for much longer to think about that.

_oOo_

His head fucking ached like that one time Tara had taken him for a night on the town and got him totally and utterly shit-faced. He hadn't gone drinking with her since, so why was he passed out on a stone floor, freezing his ass off, and his head wouldn't stop spinning in circles?

"You are awake."

Cyrus frowned and blearily blinked his eyes open, rolling over to find the voice. It was Mikhail. Why was Mikhail there?

"Wha' 'appen?" he slurred, sending magic to his head to try to clear up some of the damage. When had he bashed his head and gotten a concussion? Fortunately, the healing worked and he was able to think more clearly.

Mikhail was glaring at him. Wha…? "You happened," he snapped, looking extremely pissed now that Cyrus could actually see again. "I have never had any trouble with this array in the two hundred years I have used it, and then you come and manage to short circuit one of the conduits and throw me hours behind schedule."

Cyrus stared. What?

"Do you have any idea how long it takes to have a two-inch thick blood gold array built? Do you have any idea how much trouble it was to put into the stone of this mausoleum? I have been working on fixing the damage for four hours now, and I am still not halfway done. If you had more control of your death magic this never would have happened. Instead, you let it all loose at once instead of holding onto it like you were supposed to and destroyed my best work!"

The human continued to stare. What the fuck was Mikhail _on?_ "What are you talking about? What the hell is this array for?"

The hatred on Mikhail's face had Cyrus recoiling, and only then did he notice that he was actually chained to the ground. "Your intelligence is far inferior to that of Ashawyn," he commented snidely, looking down on Cyrus as if he were dirt beneath his pristine shoes. "Ten minutes after waking he had figured it out." At Cyrus's blank expression, he sneered. "The array is designed to steal your core, stupid child. However, your extreme lack of ability damaged it."

"So… you miscalculated." Cyrus snorted derisively. "It's not my fault you didn't account for my awesomeness." It got him a kick to the stomach, but it was worth it to see the furious look on Mikhail's face. Death-magic-stealing ASSHOLE!

The elf stormed off in a tizzy after that (well, the elf version of a tizzy), so Cyrus started testing his bonds since the bastard's attention was elsewhere. He'd always had a weird feeling about Mikhail. Felt creeped out by him without warning or reason, at times. And now he knew why.

He was so trusting his gut from now on. It was usually right.

Some tinkering with the chains proved them to be magic-suppressing (which wasn't all that surprising), and his death magic was so tapped out that it didn't even matter if the chains could keep that energy suppressed as well. Fuck. Why did he always get the psycho killers after his ass? Exactly how many people had he done this to over the years? _Why_ did he even do this? Power? He liked the thrill?

Unfortunately, with only half his natural core at his disposal he still wasn't able to do anything to the cuffs keeping him trapped, and his rune sight didn't betray anything useful to him. Some death magics were ordered magic, and therefore had runes keeping them organized and easy to decipher, but since this was array-based magic, he couldn't see anything. Arrays were designed through arithmancy, which was basically numbers and weird mathematical equations that made no sense to Cyrus but apparently worked in helping order magic.

All of his belongings had been taken, too, so he couldn't even fill his irritable stomach. Bastard.

Letting out an angry sigh, he shifted in the restraints so he could lay out as flat as possible, as his leg was starting to fall asleep. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He'd never thought he would be in a situation where he'd have the _death_ sucked out of him. Damnit. He needed to figure some way to get out of these chains. If he could get out of them, then he'd be able to disapparate. Er, find Ashawyn first, save his ass too, and _then_ disapparate. From what Mikhail had said earlier, the fae was probably still alive.

Closing his eyes, he focused on his magic and tried to find a way out of the restraints. Thankfully, they weren't the kind that cut off his connection to his magic; they just kept it contained in his own body. Pulling his magic from his core and flooding his channels, he tried to create so much backpressure that they would explode like the cap off a can of soda.

Unfortunately, when he finally cracked the seal a foot came and kicked him right in the face, sending his whole body backwards until the chains pulled taut and yanked him back to earth. He hit the stone with a grunt and groan of pain, bringing his arms up to protect his face. Unfortunately, this opened his stomach up to assault. His suit absorbed some of the force, but only enough to reduce the blows to that of human strength instead of elven. Fuck but the bastard could _kick_.

"And what do you hope to accomplish with this pathetic display of tenacity?" Mikhail snapped. Finally, he withdrew.

Hesitantly, Cyrus opened his arms partway so he could see Mikhail's face. The elf was _pissed_. "Oh I dunno, _stay alive maybe?_"

Mikhail scoffed. "Those chains have subdued more than enough wizards, fae, demons, and elves in my time, human. They will hardly break under your pathetic attempts for freedom."

Cyrus glared at him. "When I get free from here I'm going to gut you," he bit out. Just how many people had this psycho killed over the years?

Mikhail laughed. "Hardly." Gray eyes hardened. "Now stop distracting me from my work or I will begin removing body parts from your person." He swished away, cloak billowing not unlike Snape's would have.

Cyrus watched him go, fuming. Like he was going to just stop, asshole. After waiting until the elf was back out of sight, he focused all his magic into his left arm and tried to blow off the cracked band. It cracked cleanly down the side, and Cyrus opened the hinged joint easily. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he quickly repeated the same thing with his right wrist. This one took two attempts before the band cracked and opened. Cyrus grinned. 200 years of repeated abuse against captives knowing they were going to die would weaken any set of magic-suppressing cuffs.

Unfortunately, something alerted Mikhail, because the elf was on him in a second, sending a cutting curse at his legs. You kind of needed those to run, after all. Jerking to the right, he managed to avoid a direct hit, but it still sliced one of his legs with a spray of blood. Eyes wide, panicking at the sight of so much blood and the lack of pain (which was usually a bad thing), he lost his tight grip on the magic thrumming through his body trying to escape.

The shackles on his ankles didn't crack cleanly and let him escape. No, Cyrus didn't know exactly what happened, if it was the blood or his panic or if Mikhail's spell had fucked something up, but the shackles literally _exploded_ and sent shrapnel in all directions. While thankfully the force of the magic sent the shrapnel away from his ankles, it didn't stop the pieces from ricocheting off the ground and blowing into his body. Letting out a cry of pain, he forced himself into movement to avoid Mikhail's next spell. The elf was cussing loudly as he pulled out a few pieces of shrapnel as well. Too bad one hadn't lodged itself in his eye, gone into his brain, and saved Cyrus a bunch of trouble.

Hiding behind a tomb, he quickly used his magic to pull the shrapnel out of his body and do a quick patch on his wounds to stop them from bleeding out. He didn't have time for surgery, after all. He had recovered some death magic while he was unconscious, but his magic stores had also suffered a loss from blowing up the shackles.

Sensing an attack heading his way, he disapparated as silently as possible to another part of the underground mausoleum. He needed to find Ashawyn before the bastard did them both in. Sending out his energy, he tried to 'feel' where he was.

The tombstone behind him exploded in a spray of rock and bones. Cyrus disapparated again. How the hell had Mikhail found him so easily? Sending out his senses for the elf again, his eyes widened when a tombstone nearby exploded again. How the hell- But he hadn't hit the right tomb- could Mikhail feel his sensing or something?

Disapparating again, he kept his senses to himself and was rewarded a few minutes later with a frustrated yell. So, he _could _feel when Cyrus spread out his senses. But how?

"You cannot leave here, Obsidian!" Mikhail shouted, the sound echoing in the mausoleum. "There is a ward on this entire structure that prevents any sort of magical transportation. There is no way for you to escape! Surrender now and I will not torture you to the point of death before ending your pitiful existence!"

Cyrus's eyebrows rose. Wow, not only was he a power-hungry psycho, he apparently _enjoyed_ torturing people. Great master you got there, Ashawyn. Taking a moment to heal a few more of his wounds, he tried to think of a game plan. If he couldn't escape from here, maybe he should try to find someway to call for help. But… Mikhail probably had all of his shit and weapons on his person. He wouldn't be stupid enough to leave them lying about.

So how else did he call for help?

"Found you."

Cyrus's eyes widened, but he didn't have enough time to react before he was sent flying into a tombstone and connected with a crack. Using a pulse of magic in his panic, he sent a shockwave blasting in all directions away from him. Hearing a grunt and a crash, he disapparated again. If he couldn't get a message out, then maybe he could delay the ritual by destroying more of the array. Sending his magic into the ground with a destructive force, he set to destroying the blood metal.

Unfortunately, Mikhail caught him before he managed to destroy much. Throwing the most damaging curses he could think of at the elf, he tried to stall a bit longer. He still needed to find Asha-

Something punched him in the chest and sent Cyrus flying backwards and sliding across the ground. For a moment, all he could do was lay there stunned. Slowly, a burning sensation began to spread through his chest, and he noticed it hurt to breath. Craning his head, he looked down at his chest and stared at the metal shard poking out of the right side of his chest. Absently, he noticed he was going into shock. The suit had saved him from the worst of the damage, but a little magic told him that it had pierced his lung and that was why he couldn't seem to get a full breath of air because blood was pouring into his lungs and he needed to get it out-

With a flash of light, consciousness was stolen from him.

_oOo_

Pain pulled him slowly out of the darkness with each breath he took, and he just barely stopped himself from groaning at the pain lighting a bonfire in his chest. What had- oh right. He'd been stabbed. With a piece of shrapnel from the array he'd tried to destroy.

Fuck.

Shifting his other body parts to make sure he was still functional, he mentally cussed when the tell-tale jingle of chains told him he'd been tied up again.

"Cyrus? Are you awake?"

The human blinked slowly, clearing his vision of spots. "Ashawyn?" he rasped.

"Oh thank god you're alive. He fixed your collapsed lung, but refused to heal the wound in your chest since it didn't hit anything vital. I tried to bandage it up a bit, but that suit of yours closed over it once we removed the… shrapnel. I hoped you wouldn't bleed out," he said with a shaky smile.

Cyrus grunted and 'felt' the wound with his senses. "No, it's…" He frowned. "Ash, how long has it been since I got stabbed?"

The fae blinked before checking the watch on his wrist, which apparently Mikhail had let him keep. "You've been out for eight hours. He's almost done fixing the damage that you caused."

'He's almost ready to kill us' went unsaid.

"Why is Mast… why is Mikhail doing this?" Ashawyn asked quietly. "He refuses to speak to me."

Cyrus didn't hear the question, his mind still stuck on the wound in his chest. It had only been eight hours, and the wound was mostly closed. Eight hours. No one healed that fast.

_No human_.

"Cyrus?"

The necromancer snapped out of his thoughts. "Uh, yeah?" If this was what a mostly-healed chest wound felt like, he was glad he'd been unconscious for the rest of it.

"You didn't answer my question. Why is Mikhail doing this?"

Cyrus sighed and let his head fall back to rest against the ground. "He wants to steal our death magic, and he's been doing this for around two hundred years."

Ashawyn's eyes widened. "T-two hundred? Are you serious? B-but that's- that's crazy! How come he hasn't gotten caught? How did-" He paled even more, and a bunch of foreign words spilled from his mouth for a moment before he switched back to English. "That's what happened to all his apprentices. Half of them have been dying for the past… the only one's who didn't die were the weak ones that couldn't even get as far as a masters."

Cyrus closed his eyes and focused his healing magic to finish off his chest wound so he could breath deeply again without it hurting like a bitch. "Calm down. Panicking isn't going to save our asses. Do you have any way of getting in contact with someone outside of this hole?"

Ashawyn shut up and looked to be in a panicked state of thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No, he took my magi-com."

"And there's no freaky fae way of getting in contact with other people? Like, telepathy or something?"

Ashawyn shook his head. "Not at this range. We're in the middle of the mountains some thousand kilometers from civilization. This mausoleum is from some old culture of dwarves that used to live here a thousand years ago."

Huh. That sounded familiar. "The culture with the name that is impossible to pronounce?"

Ashawyn cracked a small, tense smile. "Yeah, that'd be them. They had different vocal chords than we do."

Oh, that explained a lot. But it still didn't give them any way of getting out of this hole. Fuck.

And then Cyrus felt death magic being poured into the array under their feet, and he paled. "No…" It was too late. The only reason he could even feel it now was because the death magic was overflowing and beating against his skin. By the widening of Ashawyn's eyes, he could feel it too. They stared at each other in fear for a moment before Ashawyn doubled over, gripping his chest and screaming. Cyrus could only stare at him for a moment before he felt the same pain in his chest and screamed himself.

Pure agony ripped through his core, worse than the chest wound he had just received and _definitely_ worse than a Cruciatus. Curling into a ball on the ground, his body trying to 'protect' whatever it was that hurt, Cyrus screamed. It felt like… like someone was trying to tear his core out of his chest. Stubbornly grabbing a hold of it, he tried to form a protective barrier of magic around his cores to protect them, but the tendrils of death magic currently sunk in his chest just batted away the energy like child's play.

His magic rose. His body revolted. He could taste the vomit as his stomach forcefully ejected its contents, and his magic began cycling rapidly through his body. Heat spread through his veins like liquid fire, burning him from the inside out. Unfortunately, he was conscious at the moment when the strands of power _pulled_.

Screaming, his body arched against the stone floors as the world exploded in fire.

_-Toki Mirage-_

I don't usually do cliffhangers, but I figured it's been a while, so one was long over due. Mweheheh Also – I have a policy of everything-up-to-frottage for my ff account, since they're not actually getting nekkid or touching each other and that falls under R, not NC-17 in my books. So if you don't like it, don't read a gay fic, and read my warnings list!

And since I'm probably going to have to explain this all over again, I might as well say it now: Fanfictiondotnet has a no-porn policy. Their rating of M is the equivalent of R, not NC-17. It is stated somewhere in their Terms of Use that anything of a higher rating must be put on adultfanfictiondotnet, and that anything beyond the rating of M can be reported and removed from the site. This is why my porn is on aff and livejournal. I do not want my story deleted because of one random prude. All it takes is that one person.

Just to make things clear. And yes, I realize that people ignore it and post porn anyway; however, I am not one of those people.

Damn this thing took a long time to edit. -_-

Thanks for reading


	27. Chapter TwentySeven: False God

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

_oOo_

Cyrus floated.

He couldn't tell where he was, when he was, or even… who he was, really. He felt disconnected from the world, as if someone had put the TV in the other room and only the occasional bursts of sound reached his ears to draw him from internal solitude. He couldn't feel anything, couldn't smell anything, couldn't see anything… the only stimulus that managed to reach him was the occasional, teasing bit of magic that would pull at his senses.

And then the world exploded with sensation and he was yanked from the peace and numbness.

Agony tore across his chest. Green eyes opened to see stone collapsing and crashing to the ground around him. The floor felt hot under his skin. Wait, skin? Why were there gaping holes in his suit? Trying to pull himself into a sitting position, he let out a cry of pain when his muscles screamed at him in protest. What the hell? What-

A groan of pain. Forcing his sensitive eyes completely open, Cyrus looked around for the noise and paused for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Orange light shone through the gaping holes in it. How Cyrus had managed to not get crushed by the plethora of falling debris was anyone's guess. Pushing that from his mind for the moment, he turned his gaze away from the beams of light and tried to find the source of the pained groan. Green eyes widened at the sight of Ashawyn laying on the ground ten feet away, his lower body crushed by a large boulder. Dragging his body over to Ashawyn, he used his magic to lift the rock off the fae's legs.

Except it sputtered and died under his hands. What the hell? But he hadn't- What the hell had happened? Had he gotten sick again? Or had-

Flashes came back to him. Death magic, golden array, exploding stone, Mikhail's angry face- Mikhail. They were in a mausoleum. Mikhail had tried to steal their death magic. Eyes widening in panic, he spread his senses downward to look for his core.

A shaky breath of relief shook his whole, exhausted body when he found it intact. It was still there. He still had his death magic.

But if he had it, what the fuck had happened?

A groan brought his attention back to the present. "Shit. Ashawyn, are you awake?" he asked, eyeing the boulder sitting on his friend's legs with worry. If only he could move the bloody thing and heal the fae, but his magic was fucked six ways to Tuesday. Literally. He probably wouldn't be able to cast safely until Tuesday, unless they had been trapped in this hole even longer than he thought.

"Wha- wh'appen?" the fae groaned.

Cyrus licked his dry, dusty lips nervously and promptly spit out the dust. Gross. "Mikhail tried to steal our death magic. And kill us, I assume, since it would be stupid to leave evidence."

The fae frowned, blinked blearily for a few moments, and then ice blue eyes widened in panic. "It's gone. It's gone, Cyrus!"

The human stared. "What?"

"My death magic! It's _gone!_"

B-but, how was that possible? Cyrus's was still here, though he felt like someone had put him through the meat grinder. "Calm down, Ashawyn," he said, keeping his tone placating. "We're still alive. That counts for something, right? Obviously something went wrong. We should use this time to escape. Use that ice teleportation thing and get us out of here."

The fae frowned. "I can't! Did you forget about the shackles?"

Cyrus blinked and looked down at his own wrists. There was nothing there. "Uh…"

Ashawyn saw his line of sight and gasped. "Why do you want _me _to get us out of here? Use your magic!"

"I can't!" Cyrus bit his lip. "You remember that time, that thing with the magic that I did? Well, I'm tapped out again. I don't know how, or why, but I can't even get that-" his voice cracked, so he swallowed down the sudden knot in his throat, "-that rock off of you."

The fae grimaced and brought his arms up, pushing against the boulder. When Cyrus just stared, Ashawyn barked, "A little help here?"

Cyrus had never seen the fae this bitchy, but he figured if he had a boulder crushing his legs he would be pissed too. "I don't have the strength to move that thing!"

"It doesn't hurt to try!" Ashawyn yelled back, a desperate look in his eyes now. Cyrus bit back any more retorts and tried to pull himself into a sitting position. When his body didn't immediately fail him, he tried to get to his feet. After a couple failed attempts, he finally figured out how to get his body working again. It was the most bizarre thing. He felt like it was different from before the explosion of death magic. Brushing it off as shock from the whole episode they'd just been through – he still didn't know where Mikhail was – he started pushing on the side of the rock that would allow Ashawyn to pull himself out the easiest. Thankfully, only a side of the boulder had hit the fae's legs instead of landing directly on top. Using every ounce of energy left in his body, he _pushed_.

And promptly let out a gasp when it, with the help of Ashawyn's own efforts, _moved_. Grunting from the exertion, he tried to figure out a way to get Ashawyn out from under the rock without it falling back onto the fae. "We can't roll it over. Can you wiggle your way out?" he gasped, pushing against the rock.

The fae made a high-pitched sound, and Cyrus realized it was a whine. He was scared shitless that Cyrus would drop the rock too. Biting his lip, the human drew up more energy. He could do this. It would only take a few seconds. "On the count of three, let go and move your ass," he ordered. "Alright?" The fae nodded shakily, grunting with the effort of holding the rock up. "One… two… three!" using every ounce of power his human body could supply, he _pushed_.

The rock, suddenly twice as heavy as it was before, nearly had his body buckling under the strain. Stubbornly, he set his teeth and refused to budge, refused to let it crush his friend's legs. Again.

"Cyrus. I'm out."

With a grunt, he walked backwards and let the boulder fall back to the ground, collapsing onto the stone floor. Holy fuck that was the hardest manual labor he'd ever done in his entire life. To be honest, he was shocked as hell that he'd managed to do it.

And from the way Ashawyn was looking at him, so was the fae.

"OBSIDIAAAN!"

Both their eyes widened in fear at Mikhail's familiar voice. Fuck. The bastard was still alive? Cyrus had hoped the explosion of energy had killed the fucker.

"Run," Ashawyn told him, fists clenched on his bloody lap. "He already got what he wanted from me. He won't be coming after me."

Cyrus glared at him. "Don't be an idiot. He'll kill you _because_ he already got what he wanted from you, and he'll kill _me_ because I fucked up his death magic sucking hole of a mausoleum. C'mon, go hide between those rocks there," Cyrus ordered, getting up to help the fae.

Ashawyn just gave him a pained grimace that the human didn't like one bit. "The blood will lead him to me, Cyrus. Run, quickly, before he manages to get us both. Get out there and tell the Guild what he's been doing so they can- can rip his soul out and feed him to the abyss."

Cyrus shook his head. "Not leaving you here."

A rock to their left was blown apart in a spray of rubble and dust, some of it hitting the two wounded students. "There you are," Mikhail drawled, face twisted with hate. "You ruined _everything!_" he shouted, backhanding Cyrus and sending him flying away from Ashawyn. The elf didn't even seem to notice his bloodied student, his focus fixed entirely on Cyrus. "Decades of work, reduced to rubble!" He kicked Cyrus in the stomach, sending the human flying across the stone ground, rocks digging and slicing into his bare back as he went.

Mikhail came to a stop right in front of him, his furious expression morphing into an angry smile. "I've never really taken to torture, but I think that would be a suitable punishment for you before I kill you," he said darkly, looking Cyrus's body up and down.

Cyrus couldn't bite back the wave of panic that hit him. He didn't want that man touching him. "No!" he shouted, holding out his hand as if it would ward the elf off, and to both his and Mikhail's shock, a stream of fire burst from the outstretched appendage and nailed the elf on the side of the face. A scream cut through the eerie silence of the mausoleum as Mikhail gripped his face in pain.

And then Cyrus's heart stopped in shock as Yankovich rose out of the shadows behind the furious elf with a dead expression on his face. Used to seeing the demon far more animated (with either annoyance, amusement at Cyrus's expense, or when he was teaching someone _other than Cyrus_), the human could do nothing but stare as Yankovich pulled a knife from somewhere and stabbed the elf right in between the shoulder blade and collarbone. He disappeared again before Mikhail knew what hit him, and Cyrus watched as the elf frowned before turning his head and seeing the blood beginning to stain his dusty white robes.

"Wha-"

A foot planted itself on the back of his head now that he was looking away, and Cyrus watched as Mikhail went flying into a pile of rubble and connected with a sick _crunch_.

"Okay now, brat?" a familiar voice asked.

Cyrus turned to the right and saw Gyrdrich sitting on a chunk of rubble, wooden cane in hand. The human's mouth worked, but no sound came out.

Gyrdrich nodded gravely. "Has been… difficult, yes? Can guess what bastard elf had planned from pieces. Nasty thing, stealing magic."

Yankovich came back, dragging Mikhail by his belt, uncaring that the elf's head and feet dragged on the ground. "I knocked out the… _blarvridich_. He won't be waking up for a while." The demon bared his fangs with a snarl.

Gyrdrich nodded sagely. "Will take to Guild?"

He shook his head. "I have the authority to kill him on the spot, but… I think I'm going to punish him appropriately first." His grin widened, showing very sharp canines.

Gyrdrich looked away. "I hear and see nothing," he said dryly.

Yankovich laughed. It was a hard, angry sound. "It's a good thing you're not on the council anymore, otherwise you could get in trouble for this." He smirked at the fire demon before turning his attention to Cyrus. "You alright there, Obsidian?"

The human swallowed. "I… I don't know."

Two gray eyebrows furrowed, and before Cyrus could blink the demon was right in front of him, one hand holding his chin and turning the human's face towards Yankovich, while the other settled on his arm to keep him upright. "You're in magical shock, for one. And you- Huh. That's interesting."

Cyrus, who had slowly been turning red and gaining a hard-on from the magical touch feeling up his channels and core, scowled. "What. What's interesting?"

Yankovich grinned. "Your core is still intact. I originally thought the reason why this place exploded was because Mikhail bit off more than he could chew, but _now_… How did you do it?"

Cyrus stared at him, incomprehending. "Do what?"

"How did you cause the entire array to backfire?"

The human shrugged. "I don't know." He could barely remember it, too.

Yankovich watched him for a few moments before snorting. "Not that it really matters. I finally have evidence of what I've suspected of Mikhail for a while, and you're still alive."

Cyrus frowned. "Wait, what? You knew Mikhail was doing this to people?"

The demon gave him an irritated look. "I said I _suspected_, and I'm the only one that ever did. The rest of the council likes Mikhail too much to ever accuse him of killing off his own students to increase the size of his core. He was too good about it to catch, before now. He would wait decades in between offing one of his students, Obsidian, and I had no way of tracking him every single hour of every day."

"Oh." Well, that explained the warning he'd been given before.

"The magical shock will fade within a few days. If it hurts to cast any spells, stop and go to Svea immediately. Usually magical shock results in someone fucking around with your magic, and if he's messed up some of your channels or your core, you'll need to go to a specialist."

Cyrus nodded, slumping back against the boulder he had hit. Why was Yankovich being nice? It was so unlike him.

"Gyrdrich, can you take him and the fae to Shikaan's healing ward? With the amount of blood the kid's lost, he's not going to make it much longer."

Gyrdrich nodded, and without another word, Cyrus's world disappeared in a burst of flame.

_oOo_

Svea was there when they flamed in. Apparently, if the calendar and clock on the wall was any indication, it was Monday morning. That had been a lot of time unconscious. Cyrus had been guessing Sunday, not Monday.

"What have we here, another Obsidian disaster?" His good humor faded entirely when he caught sight of Ashawyn. Barking for Terry, the Healing TA, he got to work with a flare of magic. Cyrus was content to just lay there and wait, feeling the weird ants-on-your-skin feeling of his suit growing back over the holes that had been blasted in it. He still had no idea how they had gotten there.

Nearly three hours of surgery later, Ashawyn was as good as new besides being unconscious, and Svea and Gyrdrich were speaking in low tones. After a few moments of whispers and mumbles, the elf walked over to Cyrus with a curious look on his face. "Lay back," he ordered.

Cyrus, who had been sitting with his back against the headboard of a random bed nearby to watch as Ashawyn got patched back together, scooted down the bed without a word and lay down.

"Do you feel any dizziness? Nausea, headache?"

The human shook his head.

"Hmm… Gyrdrich says that your magic might be traumatized. Don't fight this, okay?"

With no more warning than that, Cyrus felt tendrils reach inside him. Gasping at the intrusion that was much less gentle than Yankovich's, he used all his will power to not shove Svea away with a well-placed kick. "Could you be more gentle?" he bit out through gritted teeth.

Svea frowned. "Does that hurt?"

"Like a motherfucker."

The elf's eyebrows rose at the uncharacteristic swearword from Cyrus. "I _am_ being gentle. _This_ is me being not gentle."

Agony split through Cyrus's entire body and he arched up off the bed with a scream. The bed spontaneously combusted. Svea, surprised, pulled away from the flames could light his long white hair on fire.

The flames on the bed died out abruptly, leaving behind a singed mattress and a melted metal frame. Cyrus, laying in agony in the middle of it, was untouched.

"What do that for? Idiot!" Gyrdrich smacked Svea with his staff, and if Cyrus weren't in so much pain he would have laughed.

"I did not realize he was that sensitive. A normal person would have felt mildly uncomfortable."

"Is not normal! Is magic sensitive!"

Svea's eyes widened before narrowing in interest. "I see… fascinating." With a wave of his hand, he moved Cyrus to a fresh bed. "I apologize for hurting you, Mr. Obsidian, but next time you should inform your Healer of these things before they accidentally knock you into a coma."

The human just scowled and glared.

"Calm down. I will be careful to be more gentle." Magic tendrils entered him again, and this time he could barely feel them. "Hmm… it appears that, aside from magical shock, you are doing well. Your death magic core in particular seems agitated, but if you refrain from using it for the next four to five days, it will be fine. Now, as for your normal magic… did your illness return again?"

Cyrus shrugged, closing his eyes. He was sick of not knowing what was wrong with him.

"Illness? Is sick?"

"Yes. I have yet to identify what it is, but it seems to result in no ill effects aside from draining Cyrus of his magic every once in a while. He experienced severe flu-like symptoms the first time; however, that may have been due to the fact that his body was fighting off the vampire virus." A hand prodded Cyrus, and the human opened his eyes. "Have you noticed anything unusual?"

Cyrus nervously licked his lips. "Well… I'm not sure if this counts, but a couple times I've become more physically strong than a normal human."

Svea looked interested. "Really. When was the first incident, and the others?"

"Well… I broke a table. And then just earlier, I helped lift a boulder off of Ashawyn's legs."

"Hmm. That can easily be explained by your magic responding to your need and physically enhancing your body. It is not that unusual. Often it is in response to either fear or anger."

Cyrus deflated a bit, but then remembered the other thing. "I got stabbed in the chest with a metal pole, and though Mikhail fixed my perforated lung, he didn't take care of the wound itself. And it… it healed. On its own. In like…" he cast his mind back, "eight hours."

Svea frowned. "Advanced healing?" he murmured to himself, grabbing Cyrus's arm and slicing it with a burst of magic.

Cyrus stared at the wound. What the hell-

"Stop wiggling. I wish to see if your healing rate is faster than that of the average human. You have not completed any rituals, correct?"

Cyrus nodded. You needed Potions as a prerequisite to get into Ritual Magic, and he had no intention of touching another cauldron unless it was a matter of life and death.

After a few minutes of silence, Svea 'hmm'ed again. "It appears as though your healing rate has increased compared to that of a normal human's. However, I detect no anomalies in your DNA to indicate that you are anything but a hundred percent human. There is not even a recessive gene to indicate otherwise. However, while the brief bouts of physical strength can be explained by magic, this healing I would attribute to your illness. Whatever it may be."

Cyrus held his breath. "So… I'm still human?"

Svea inclined his head. "Entirely."

The human let out a relieved breath. At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about now.

"Though I am curious… have you been tested for fire as an element?" At Cylus's blank look, he raised an eyebrow. "The excessive fire earlier would lead me to believe you're a fire elemental. I would suggest you get tested."

Cyrus closed his eyes. Fire at this point was the least of his worries. He just wanted to sleep now.

Svea wandered away from him and went to talk to Yankovich, who was still standing nearby, watching. They spoke in quiet tones, and Cyrus found his ears sharpening to hear it.

"-impossible to fix, unfortunately. Something like that…"

"There must be some way. Some magical surgeon who can-"

"It is impossible, Yankovich. Having your death magic forcefully torn out of you like that… it leaves scars that you cannot heal."

"But what if we had the core still inta-"

"Impossible. I am sorry, Yankovich. Would you prefer that I tell him the news when he awakens?"

Yankovich snorted. "You want to be the one to tell that kid he can't raise another zombie for the rest of his life? Be my guest."

Svea was quiet for a moment. "I am sorry, Yankovich."

"Sorry doesn't cut it for Ashawyn, Svea. People have pulled this shit off before."

"The level of damage is too high. Mikhail… did not intend for him to survive."

Cyrus's heart had stalled in his chest. Were they serious? Ashawyn… he didn't have death magic anymore?

Would the same thing have happened to Cyrus if he had been a normal Shikaan student? The thought made his chest tighten. Sure, he found his lack of control of his death magic frustrating, but… he wouldn't just _throw it away_. And if Mikhail had managed to steal it from him…

He didn't know what he would do, but it wouldn't be pretty.

Righteous anger churned inside him on Ashawyn's behalf. Mikhail deserved a bloody, tortuous, shameful death.

_oOo_

Weeks passed, slowly but surely. Cyrus kept trying to meet with Ashawyn to see how he was doing, but the fae… The fae had taken it badly, to the point where his parents had had to come get him from Shikaan's ward because he refused to get out of bed. They'd taken him to the Aengar, who had prescribed some anxiety medication to help him through his trauma, and since then he'd been sleeping the days away in his room. Occasionally Cyrus would get a short text to answer the dozen he'd sent, and those were the only things keeping him from storming the fae's house to see if he was still alive.

The werewolf poisonings had stopped, since the vampires had managed to get their hands on Dorcas, the bastard making it. Cyrus didn't know what they'd done with him, since Tara kept telling him to leave it alone and stay out of vamp business. Apparently 'he didn't want to know'. They were dealing with it, and it was one less thing he had to worry about.

He wouldn't have minded seeing that vampire get his head chopped off, though, after that whole vampire bite thing. Not to mention the shit he'd been going through since then, with some weird illness that Svea _still_ hadn't managed to identify.

It was two weeks after the incident that Cyrus was surprised with a phone call from Remus.

"_Hello Cyrus, I hope your classes are going well?"_

Cyrus blinked, looking down at the Runes project laid out on the table in front of him. "Somewhat. Working on a Runes assignment right now. What's up? Usually you phone me later on in the evenings."

Remus cleared his throat. _"Truth is, I got a message from Fred and George today."_

It took the human a moment to remember why in the world Remus would be telling him that. "Oh. _Oh._ Shit. Okay, I'll go meet them at their shop."

Remus murmured something too quietly for Cyrus to hear. _"They've agreed to meet you there. I'm sure they'd appreciate you coming immediately, but _I_ believe it's better that you are prepared. I'm sure they can wait a few more minutes."_

Cyrus nodded to himself, thinking of all the things he might need for a trip to Egypt. It was moments like these that he was really glad he kept a bag prepped with just about everything he might need for an emergency situation. "Tell them I'll be quick. I just need to change my clothes." He'd been studying in his room all weekend, so there hadn't been a point in putting on his armor. After a while his skin just started to itch from wearing it, and as he hadn't had any unpleasant surprises in his room for a while (which could be attributed to his being Tara's donor, most likely), he saw no point in being uncomfortable.

"_Keep in touch, alright? If you need help, don't hesitate to call."_

Cyrus smiled. Truth was, he appreciated that Remus had stopped mothering him at every little thing. Just a year ago he would have been locked in a room while the 'adults' took care of the situation, but ever since Remus had taken over the pack and Cyrus had killed to save him, the werewolf had been far less coddling. "Sure thing. Tell Severus I said 'hi'?"

"_I will. Stay safe."_

"You too. See you later." Cyrus snapped the phone shut and started dialing Tara's cell immediately. She picked up after a few rings.

"_Sup bitch?"_

Cyrus snorted. "Sup, snoop dog."

"_Don't call me that."_

"Don't call me bitch."

"_Whatever. Bitch. What's up?"_

"I'm going away for a while. Trip to Egypt. May or may not be some heavy violence. It's sort of a rescue mission for some friends of mine. I thought I'd just let you know before you started freaking out."

"_Hm. Freak out? Me? More like castrate you. Damned smart thing, calling me and letting me know."_ Cyrus shuddered at the very idea of losing his precious jewels. _"Anyway, you phone if you need back up, eh? And I want regular check ins from you. If you don't call for twelve hours, I'm coming after your ass. I'd come with you right now, but I'm a little preoccupied with some shit right now."_

Cyrus smiled. "That's understandable. Pass the word on to Xanthir, okay? And Yalmireth if you see him. No point in anyone worrying."

Tara hummed thoughtfully. _"Do you want me to ask Xanthir if he's free? How much shit are you flying into this time?"_

He shrugged. "Dunno, really. I haven't met up with the people with all the information yet."

Tara grunted. _"Che. You always do that. Offer to help the little peons."_ She paused thoughtfully. _"I want you to text your co-ordinates to me as soon as you know where you're going. If I have an idea of where your ass is, it'll be easier for me to save it."_

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn't see it. "Nice to see how much confidence you have in my abilities."

"_Oh, I have no doubt you can kick some serious ass, but something always stinks in these kinds of shitty situations. Keep your ass safe, alright?"_

He snorted softly and smiled. "Yeah, I will. Don't fry your brain with too much homework. We both know even _you_ are only so smart."

"_What was that, bitch? You want me to come over there and-"_

Before she could finish the threat, Cyrus hung up on her with a grin. It was best not to hear Tara's threats, as they either made your balls cringe in anticipation or the hairs on the back of your neck rise at her sheer ingenuity. If Tara ever decided to become a torture expert, she would be competition for anyone in her clan.

Walking over to his trunk, he grabbed the armor conveniently strewn across the top of it and started pulling it on. If he didn't get moving, Fred and George might take off on him, and while that might make his life easier, it would undoubtedly decrease Bill's chances of survival. And since Cyrus had always liked Bill, with his long hair and cheerful disposition, that wasn't exactly a desired outcome.

Grabbing his emergency bag, he shrunk it and stuffed it into his pocket. Checking that he had both wands in hand and doing a quick mental checklist, he hoped he hadn't forgotten anything important. Not thinking of anything, he shrugged and disapparated with a _crack_.

Fred and George were waiting for him, thankfully, but Cyrus had to contain his snort at the sight of them. Not only were they _not_ dressed for a battle, but they looked more like clown wizards than warrior wizards.

It was both entertaining and worrisome at the same time.

"I hope you two don't expect to take down Voldemort with those outfits," he couldn't help but comment, eyeing the bright colors. Un-stealthy didn't even BEGIN to cover this.

The twins looked down at their outfits in confusion. "What's wrong with it? Tourists dress-"

"-in bright colors."

Cyrus snorted. "Right. So, what's your information?" He'd rather just convince them to change their clothes later, when they actually had an example of what an Egyptian wore than try to convince them to change it at that moment. Priorities, and all.

Their expressions hardened and became somber. "Our contact has reliable information that Bill and a handful of curse breakers-"

"-are being held against their will at a dig site. Apparently they're-"

"-looking for some kind of ancient scroll or book or something."

Cyrus frowned thoughtfully. A scroll? From ancient Egypt? Wouldn't it have disintegrated already?

Unless… it was magical. "Right. What's the plan?"

The twins looked at each other and then at him. "We thought you were the plan guy."

The Shikaan student barely resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. Great. "Do you have schematics for their current location? Not to mention the enemy forces and strength? Without this information it's difficult to plan any kind of rescue plan that doesn't involve martyrdom."

Thankfully, the twins had been smart enough to get that much. They pulled a map from behind the counter and unrolled it on top. "Our contact couldn't get us much, but we do have decent map. There's about fifty or so Death Eaters, and it seems like they go through three rotations in a day. Voldemort doesn't show up himself very often, but occasionally he pops in without notice to see how the dig is going."

Cyrus frowned. What the hell kind of papyrus could snake-face be looking for that he would personally oversee this dig? "Do you know when the rotations are? Also, the distribution of the forces?"

The twins stared at him for a moment before glancing at each other. "Our contact couldn't stick around long enough to get that much."

Cyrus let himself sigh this time. He could tell this was going to suck _already_. "Do you have the location of the prisoners?"

The twin on the left, who Cyrus was going to refer to as Fred in his own head so he didn't get confused as hell, pointed to a room in the basement of the building. "This is where they sleep, but most of the time they're out working on the curses."

Cyrus drew an X on the map with his finger, ignoring the look the twins gave him at the casual display of wandless magic. "What the hell kind of curses are they dealing with that Voldemort has had his hands on them since _March_ and still hasn't found what he's working for?"

The twins shrugged. "I bet the curse breakers are working as slowly as they can, but you're right. It is kind of weird that it's taking so long."

Cyrus scowled and stared down at the schematics in consternation. "Is the dig located near a pyramid?"

"No, which is why they haven't been drawing any attention from the muggles or the local wizarding government. Besides the copious amounts of notice-me-not charms, it's in the middle of nowhere by an oasis. There's no rocks out there, no broken buildings… no nothing. U-no-poo just decided to start digging there."

It was unlikely that Voldemort had started digging there for no reason. He was probably looking for something important. Maybe a way to get his current body back to normal? Or a power, or knowledge that would make him stronger. Maybe after Yankovich fucked him over with those zombies he was trying his own hand at death magic? But that didn't make any sense. Why go to the middle of _Egypt_ for books he could probably find in England? No, it had to be something specific to the area. An Egyptian form of magic?

Unfortunately, Cyrus knew absolutely nothing about the country, the society, or their history. Maybe Tara would know something…? Speaking of which. "Do you have the apparition co-ordinates for this camp?" he asked, eyes roaming over the schematics again and committing them to memory. Part of their training in Weapons and Battle had been 'pretend missions' where they were given a problem, a limited amount of information, and then a limited amount of time in which to solve it.

But unlike those practice games, losing this fight would mean more than just humiliation in front of his peers.

"Is there any other information that you can think of to add? Even something insignificant could help."

George shrugged, while Fred just looked like he was sucking on a lemon drop. "We know Voldemort's been up to other things besides this Egypt escapade-"

"-but we haven't been able to glean much information from the Order's meetings."

"Occasionally we'll sneak into Grimmauld Place to eavesdrop, but…"

"Well, all we know is Voldemort's also looking for some wand-maker-"

"-named Gregorovitch, and Ollivander recently went missing."

Cyrus frowned. A wand-maker? Why was he looking for one of those? There were plenty out there, if you knew where to look. "So he's got more than one project going at the same time, then. I wonder which one is a bigger priority to him…" He shook his head. "Whatever. Doesn't really matter. You two ready to go?" They nodded. "How good are you at concealment charms?"

When they rattled off the most generic spells you could find in a Hogwarts textbook, he nearly grimaced. "How about I do the casting for that, and you try not to do anything stupid. You have portkeys to get the hostages out?"

When all he got was blank looks, he felt like pulling out his hair. Flipping out his phone with an irritated curse in Kembarik he'd learned from a certain little red demon, he phoned up Remus. After two rings, the werewolf picked up. "Hey. I need a shit-ton of portkeys, and I need them pronto. How good are you at making them?"

Remus was completely silent for a moment. _"They don't have portkeys already?"_

"No, and while I'm pretty sure I can bring down some anti-apparition wards, the hostages might not be in any condition for independent travel. Not to mention average people can't apparate that kind of distance _anyway_." No, Cyrus was just a freak that way. He found long distance apparition rather easy, since it wasn't a huge strain on his core.

"_I see… I'm afraid I'm not very skilled at portkey creation. I'll have to get Severus."_

"Is he busy at the moment?"

"_No. How many do you need?"_

"I'd prefer at least ten. The prisoners will probably be split up, and then we need to get our own asses out."

"_I'll see what I can do. I'll phone you back soon."_ Remus hung up with a _click_.

Cyrus turned his attention back to the guilty-looking twins in front of him. "I just hope you realize how unprepared this mission is and how much I want to bash your heads together at the moment." When they looked insulted and prepared to strike back, he held up a hand. "While your information is somewhat useful, there are so many factors you haven't even considered during the 'planning' of this little adventure. In fact, the lack of planning is making me seriously consider leaving you two here and doing the whole damned thing myself." At least then he wouldn't have to worry about Fred and George getting their asses killed.

Actually, that idea was beginning to look more and more enticing as he watched the expressions of anger and indignation spread across their faces.

"What makes you so much more qualified for this mission?"

"You think that just because you've been away at another-"

"-school for a year that you know how to do a rescue?"

Cyrus scowled. "I do, in fact. I've been trained _specifically_ for situations like this, and I've already been on a real life rescue mission. Can you say the same?" Okay, the Snape rescue hadn't exactly been the most successful in existence, but no one had died.

And close calls didn't count.

When they said nothing, he just raised an eyebrow. "I know you both want to be in on the action, but if I can't rely on you to watch my back and not get yourselves caught, you're going to make this a lot more difficult than it needs to be." When all they did was stare at him with stubborn expressions on their faces, he sighed. "Fine. But I'm casting all the stealth charms. Hogwarts 101 won't cut it on this one. We're dealing with trained Death Eaters."

They just nodded, keeping their mouths shut this time. Cyrus let out a small, relieved breath. They really didn't have time to be measuring dicks at the moment.

Thankfully, at that moment he got a phone call.

"Hello?"

"_Cyrus."_

Oh, Severus. "Hi Severus, how are you?"

The twins' eyes widened in shock across from him, but he made a throat-cutting motion and gave them a _look_ before they got it in their heads to open their big mouths.

"_I am well. How are your classes?"_

"Peachy. Did Remus fill you in?"

"_Yes. I must admit, I am not completely comfortable with you going on such an important mission with those two simpletons."_

Cyrus snorted. "To be honest, neither am I, but they're stubborn. Do you have the portkeys?"

"_I just finished making them, yes. How would you like them transported?"_

"I'll come grab them right now."He disapparated without another word.

Severus was sitting in the living room when he apparated in, and without a word, they both hung up at the same time. "Are any of your friends from Shikaan acting as back up?"

Cyrus let out a slow breath, trying not to show his nerves. By the way Severus's eyes narrowed, he was too obvious about it. "Tara's busy, but will come flying in if necessary. Xanthir… I haven't heard from him yet. I assume Tara forwarded him the message, and Yalmireth… is definitely not fighting material."No, the demon was barely getting by in their Weapons and Battle class.

Severus frowned. "I would suggest bringing at least one competent person with you. I would come myself, but there is another lead that Remus and I are working on at the moment. We think we may have figured out what it is that keeps Voldemort immortal."

Cyrus's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? What is it?"

"I recently discovered a very old book in the Black library that mentions an item called a horcrux. Essentially, by splitting one's soul into many pieces and hiding them in secure locations, it makes it impossible for one to die unless all the horcruxes are destroyed first. Of course, at this point it is merely speculation, and we have no idea where these items are, but… it is a step in the right direction."

Cyrus frowned. "Splitting of the soul? That's pretty Dark magic. Must have hurt like a bitch."

"Indeed."

They stared at each other for a moment. "So, where are these portkeys?"

Severus tossed him a bag filled with chess pieces. "The activation phrase is Elixer of Life."

Cyrus nodded. "Thanks for your help. I'll keep you posted."

"You had better. I do not want to see your corpse on the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning, understood?"

Cyrus smiled. "Yeah, I got it. I'll try to get Xanthir in on the action." His phone _dinged_ and he frowned, pulling it out.

_If ya don't take me_

_with ya, Tara's bad_

_humor'll be the least_

_of yer problems._

_Come pick me up,_

_Xan_

Cyrus grinned. "Well, that solves that. Xanthir's on board. I'll swing by his room."

Severus nodded, some of the lines in his forehead easing at the knowledge. "He is competent enough at battle. Stealth is of the essence, do not forget."

The human shrugged. "I'm probably the more stealthy of us all at this point. I've been studying that area of spellwork specifically since I first found out that I might be helping Fred and George with this." When Severus said nothing, just watched him, he gave a little wave and disapparated with a _crack_.

Xanthir was waiting in his room when Cyrus popped in, decked out in full armor and longsword strapped to his back. The human stared for a moment before tapping the metal with a fingernail. "Never seen you in full armor before."

The werewolf shrugged. "Tara said there could be some major shit, so I figured I'd break it out. Bought it after that time we rescued Snake."

Amusingly enough, Xanthir couldn't seem to remember Severus's name for the life of him, and instead kept referring to him by his animal mascot. Tara found it hilarious. Cyrus just hoped he'd be there to see Severus's expression if Xanthir ever had the balls to say it to his face. "Alright. You got everything?"

The werewolf nodded. "Yep."

Without another word, he put his hand on Xanthir's shoulder and disapparated. Again.

Fred and George were right where he left them, thankfully, though they appeared to be talking to each other over the schematics of the building. They looked up when Cyrus popped in with Xanthir and _gaped_ at the sight.

"Holy! Is that real armor? Blimey, Gred, I think-"

"-your in love, I know. You really need to work on that-"

"-yeah, I know. But I like swords."

Xanthir grinned, flashing white teeth that contrasted sharply with his tanned complexion and orange hair. "Sorry, guys, but I'm as straight as Lessaris here," he said, pointing to the sword on his back.

The twins reddened slightly, and Cyrus couldn't help but smirk slightly in amusement. "That's not what I-"

"Alright, kiddies," Cyrus interrupted, "lets get the show on the road. Xanthir, these are the schematics of the building. All Fred and George know is that there are three cycles of guard shifts, and when the prisoners aren't working on breaking curses in this dig, they're kept here," he said, pointing to the X he'd drawn on the map earlier. "The only number we have is around 50 guards. That's it. They're trained wizards and witches, mind, but they only fight with magic. If one throws a punch, I'd be genuinely surprised."

Xanthir frowned, as if that were a completely new concept to him. "Only magic? You're serious?" He snorted. "Are they all human?"

Cyrus nodded. "To my knowledge."

Xanthir nodded. "Alright, Green. What's the game plan?" he asked, his entire focus on Cyrus instead of the two across from them who had provided so little Intel.

The human let out a sigh. "Well, I don't have much to work with. Fred and George in the middle in case things go ape-shit. I'm in front, leading the way. You cover our asses. Our mission objective is a redhead with long hair, blue eyes, and a shit-ton of freckles. Like these two. He's one of their older brothers. Anyway, while I hate to say it, he is the primary objective and other prisoners are a second objective to him. We're to secure him _first_ before saving any of the others. If things go to shit quick, though, we'll do what we can as long as we don't use up all our portkeys. I've got ten. If it comes down to it, I can apparate both of us out of there, but I'd prefer not to tear down wards unless I totally need to."

Both Fred and George were watching them with wide eyes now, staring at Cyrus like they'd never seen him before. Xanthir just nodded like this was the norm. "I think it'd be a good idea if they had their on portkey on them," the werewolf tossed in, "Just so we don't have to worry about getting them one at the last minute."

Cyrus nodded. It was a good point. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a chess piece and tossed it at George. "The activation phrase is Elixer of Life. Don't lose it," he warned. George just gave him a 'no, duh' look. "Alright, I think that's everything. Ready to go?"

"You text Tara yet?"

Cyrus blinked and then swore, taking out his magi-com. "I'm gonna keep forgetting. Do you wanna just do it for me after this one?"

Xanthir shrugged. "As long as she's in the loop, it don't much matter. She can get bitchy if you forget and she gets worried for nuthin', though."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cyrus muttered as he typed up the co-ordinates and then hit 'send'. "Alright. Let's get going."

Xanthir looked at the co-ordinates on the map dubiously. "I hope you don't expect me to apparate that far."

Cyrus shook his head. "I'll be taking us. That way I know we all get there in one piece and at the same time." He held out his arms. "Xanthir, you hold on from the back. Fred, George, grab my arms. Keep a strong grip, okay? Apparating this far in one shot can be quite a ride."

The twins stared at him. "You can side-along three people at the same time?"

Xanthir laughed. "He's got more magic than all three of us combined, Freckles. Don't worry 'bout it."

Having already grabbed onto him, Cyrus didn't wait for Fred to think up a good come back for his new nickname. Disapparating with a _crack_, he focused his entire attention on getting them there together and with no pieces missing.

They appeared a ways away from the co-ordinates, just as Cyrus had planned to. Seeing that it was actually nighttime in Egypt, he grinned. Perfect. Waving his hand, he changed the twin's clothes to pitch black without a word. Xanthir himself had already cast spells on his armor to dull the shine and make it tarnish to black.

Cyrus loved working with someone who knew _what to do_. Without another word, he opened his mind to mentally connect with Xanthir. He'd been working on learning how to communicate properly through telepathy, and after a few frustrating sessions with Tara had finally managed to figure out how to do it properly without sounding like he was speaking Italian or something.

Tapping the twins on the shoulders, he made a 'zip the lips' motion and motioned for them to stay behind him. They nodded and did as he directed, standing still as he cast numerous charms and spells on them to keep them from waking up the whole camp like a stampede of elephants.

He missed Tara already. She would have just told them to keep their lily white asses back in the joke shop and leave the _real_ work to a woman.

_::You hearing me?::_

Xanthir grinned at the back of the line, having already cast the appropriate spells himself. _::Loud and clear, Boss.::_

_::Good. Now let's just hope the civilians don't fuck everything up.::_

_::Why didn't you just leave them back there?::_

_::They're stubborn. They probably would have followed and then fucked up everything _worse_. At least this way I can control them somewhat. Keep their noses out of the wrong kind of shit at the wrong time.::_

Xanthir snorted. _::True. If you need me to knock them out and ship them out, just let me know.::_

_::Will do.::_

It was a long trek up the camp, but with Xanthir behind them wiping their trail from the sand and Cyrus in the front keeping an eye out for patrols, they managed to avoid most of the Death Eaters. About half a kilometer away from the site, Cyrus was suddenly very glad that he had apparated in so far away. The wards on this place were _epic_. He hadn't seen shit like this since… well, some of it he'd only ever seen in Rivehn's class before, to put it in perspective.

Voldemort had to have hired a proper warder for this. Which meant it went higher up on the Dark Lord's priority list, and it confirmed Cyrus's suspicions that they had fallen into a deep, steaming pile of _shit_.

Just where he liked it. Not.

_::The security in this place is ridiculous. Do we have enough stealth spells?::_

Cyrus shrugged. He had specifically used spells that allowed them to see each other as long as the spell casting was connected, but Xanthir had a valid point. _::Most of these guys are confident enough in their superiority that they won't notice the little things. We just need to make sure we don't slip.::_

They slipped into the building itself rather easily. The fact that Voldemort had had a legit place built here only made Cyrus even more concerned. This was a serious, long-term project. The fact that the Egyptian government hadn't found them yet was another bad sign.

Not to mention a question that had been nagging in the back of Cyrus's mind: _Where had Fred and George gotten their Intel?_

Their first problem cropped up rather quickly into their little adventure when Cyrus led them to a dead end. Scowling, he consulted his mental map that he had assembled while in the joke shop.

_::What's up, Cy?::_

_::Fucking Intel is wrong. The schematics for this building…:: _Activating his rune sight, Cyrus's scowl only got worse as he examined the basic structure of the building. Since the whole thing had been assembled with magic, and magic held it together, he could see _everything_. It took practice to learn how to form it into a picture in his mind, but he'd been studying so much Runes lately that it didn't take very long at all. _::They're all wrong. The entire schematics. Fucked right up the ass. Thankfully, I think I've found our prisoners. It's the only room in the entire damned place that's warded against escape.::_

Cyrus could feel Xanthir's irritation through the telepathic link. _::I'm really glad we've got your eyes, right now. Think it's a set up? Intel could be compromised.::_

The human considered that for a moment. _::I wish I knew who or what it came from, to be honest. Fred and George aren't exactly 'secret mission' material.::_

Xanthir mentally snorted. _::Green doesn't even begin to cover this level of naivety. Have you noticed the guards inside the building being more on guard than the ones outside? It's almost like someone _wanted_ us to get into the building, but not back out again.::_

Cyrus scowled. _::I did notice that they're irritatingly more observant. Do you think we should scrap it or try to get the-::_

Fred was poking his shoulder.

Nearly growling out loud with irritating, he spun on the Weasley and did quick and sharp handmotions for 'shut the fuck up' and 'mission is FUBAR, wait for orders'. Of course, he didn't get it. Rolling his eyes, he flashed the thumbs up and held up his hand, mouthing 'wait'. Thankfully, the twin stopped harassing him.

_::What am I going to do about these two? They're fucking useless. Jesus. I seriously want to-::_

_::Cyrus, breath. Calm down. Everything will be fine. You have your eyes, we can find the cells. Just get us _moving_ before someone bumps into us by accident in this dead end, alright?::_

Doing as Xanthir said, he quickly reassembled the schematic in his head based on the spells in the walls. It was rather easy to figure out floor plans after memorizing the complicated pathways, patterns, and systems that one constructed spells with.

_::Alright. Follow me. Keep the twins docile, alright? If they go rogue, get rid of them.::_

_::Gotcha.::_

Without another word, he led them to a staircase that would take them down three floors to the cells in the basement. They bumped into a Death Eater in the staircase, but a quick wandless stunner knocked him out, and Cyrus disarmed him, restrained him with rope, and then shrunk him and stuck him in his pocket. Chances were the guy was of no importance, but if things went shitty later he could try to get some information out of the guy. A backup plan was always smart. _And_ it kept the guy from giving them away.

After that little surprise Cyrus used his rune sight to check around corners and avoid the rooms with the most Death Eaters in them. Finally, after a lot of hair-raising dodging and stress, they reached the cells. Motioning for Xanthir to stay back and watch their exit, he went to the cell with the most people in it and started looking for a certain redhead.

Only, he wasn't in there.

Shit. That could mean so many things. One, they had a night shift for the curse breakers. Two, he was dead. Three, some Death Eaters were having 'fun' with him.

He didn't like any of those options.

Casting a wide silencing charm around them, he motioned for Xanthir to knock out the guard that they'd sneaked by. The werewolf did it without hesitation, following Cyrus's example and disarming, tying, and shrinking him.

Unfortunately, Fred and George jumped in before he could come to a decision.

"Hey! Do any of you know-"

"-where Bill Weasley is?"

He knew he should have left them in the joke shop.

The prisoners twittered, confused as to why the empty was talking to them.

"We're here to rescue you! But-"

"-we need to know where Bill is!"

If you _weren't_ planning on rescuing the other prisoners, the last thing you did was _tell_ them you were going to rescue them. Because if you left them sitting there, wondering when you were going to come back, or you told them that someone else had priority over them, chances were someone would get stupid and alert one of the guards as 'revenge'.

Did Fred and George know _nothing?_

"He's on the night shift," one of the prisoners finally spoke as the rest of them started twittering in anticipation of their release. "How do you plan to get us out?"

Fred _handed_ them his portkey. "Use this. It should get you-"

"-out of here. Activation is Elixer of Life."

The guy disappeared.

Idiotic Gryffindors! You didn't _say_ the bloody passphrase when the bloke was HOLDING THE PORTKEY! Sure, their lack of common sense could be blamed on the high-stress situation, but it was in these kinds of situations that you went _out_ of your way to not make idiotic fuck ups like that.

Alarms started blaring. Cussing out loud in Kembarik, Cyrus dissolved the wards on the cell and ripped the metal from the walls with his magic. Tossing Fred and George inside, he tied them all together with rope and then tossed a portkey into the middle of the lot. "Elixer of Life."

They vanished. Cyrus hoped that wherever Severus had planned for them to go was very _unpleasant_.

Xanthir came up behind him with an 'are you serious?' look on his face. _::Did what I think just happened _really_ happen?::_

_::British wizards are fucking retarded,::_ was all Cyrus would say, breaking out into a run towards the exit, recasting all the spells that kept him hidden and undetected. The last thing he needed right now was one of them fading. _::Now we need to figure out where the damned dig site is.::_

_::I didn't see anythin' on the surface, so chances are this facility was built on top of it. Did you try turnin' your eyes even farther down?::_

Cyrus turned his rune sight back on and looked even deeper than he had before. It took a while, but finally he saw the largest catacomb of curses he'd _ever seen_. _::Holy shit. Xanthir… it's fucking huge. How are we going to find the rest of the curse breakers in there?::_

_::Look for someone casting spells?::_

Oh. Right. Duh. Damn, this entire situation was so out of control his brain was going squirrel-crazy on him. _::I wish we had Tara. She could just shadow walk us down there.::_

_::Unless there are anti-vampire spells, and then we'd be screwed.::_ Cyrus could almost feel when Xanthir's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. _::Wait. What if there are anti-werewolf ones?::_

_::We'll deal with that when and if it comes to that.::_ Cyrus said decisively, not even wanting to think about that at the moment.

_::Alright. Well, let's get moving then, before we get firebombed by ladies in black dresses.::_

Cyrus mentally snorted at the image. People in Other Realm had stopped wearing robes so long ago that Xanthir _would_ think they were all ladies in dresses. _::Let's find a safe place where we can sit for a moment while I look for the rest of the prisoners. This location is gonna get hot.::_

Xanthir sent a mental affirmative and they started moving, dodging guards here and there. At one point Cyrus almost walked right into someone, but Xanthir thankfully grabbed him by the back of his armor and yanked him to the side, just barely avoiding collision. Cyrus sent a mental 'thanks' and they continued on their way.

They were just entering the catacombs when Cyrus felt Voldemort's arrival. It was hard to miss it when all of a sudden the wards tightened like a noose above him and the sheer malevolent presence of the man blasted through his senses. He'd gotten a little better at sensing the energies around him after studying with Yankovich's old teacher, Gyrdrich, but even if he hadn't he would've noticed Voldemort's arrival. The power, malevolence, and darkness to it…

No wonder he had so many bloody followers. Back in Hogwarts Cyrus wouldn't have noticed, but _now_… it had an addictive, alluring quality to it.

_::Whooa, who is _that?_:: _Xanthir asked behind him, awe coming through their telepathic link.

_::A certain British Dark Lord.::_

_::Seriously? Damn. I can see why all these girls in dresses follow him. Must be fangirls.::_

Cyrus couldn't keep himself from snorting softly in amusement. _::Try to keep your mind off it. He can be… intimidating.::_

_::Intimidatin'? That's a good word for it…::_

Finding a nook in the catacombs that no Death Eaters were near, Cyrus brought them to a stop and started searching for the curse-breaking going on. After a good minute, he had finally found them in the bottom right corner of the structure, nowhere near anything that looked like a secret vault of treasures. Snorting softly, he gave Xanthir a mental poke and started running down the hall, constantly flickering back and forth between rune sight and normal vision to make sure they didn't run into any Death Eaters or Egyptian traps.

They made it about halfway down when they ran into a trouble in a large, open room.

Cyrus cursed across the mental link as he saw Voldemort chilling in what appeared to be a throne room of sorts. At the end of the hall lay a raised dais around which more than a hundred Death Eaters gathered, avoiding the long pools of water that lined the walls.

_::Is there another way to get down there?::_

_::No. We have to go through this room. I'd bet that whoever built this place planned it that way on purpose. There seems to be an extended catacomb beyond this room. Probably some sort of hidden royalty crap.::_

_::You have any idea why they're here?::_

_::Voldemort's looking for something, apparently. A scroll of some kind.::_

_::Hm… think we can sneak past the throng of ladies in dresses?::_

_::Possibly. Unfortunately, we can't sneak along the edge of the room because of the water.::_

_::Oh, we could _so_ walk on water.::_

_::…You know a spell for that?::_

_::Well, no. But you could _make_ one.::_

While true, it would probably take him around two hours to get something working. Not worth it in this scenario, considering all the Death Eaters were looking for intruders, and _knew_ that what the intruders were looking for was the rest of the hostages. Fucking Fred and George, screwing the whole damned thing up.

_::Can you hear what they're saying?::_

_::Yeah, I've been eavesdroppin'. Something 'bout 'our lord' this and 'our lord' that, and 'find those intruders' blah blaaah. They don't seem very intelligent.::_

_::Intelligent enough to cause a problem, though.::_

::…True.::

They stared at each other for a moment before Cyrus sighed and scrubbed his forehead. _::Blowing a hole is impractical. We have to try to sneak by, or wait until Voldemort leaves. But somehow… I don't think he's leaving. He likes hanging out in places that make him feel important.::_

_::We could wait for the minions to thin out a bit, though.::_

Cyrus nodded. _::Let's do that. This hallway is going to get crowded soon, so let's go over by the water and those statues.::_

Xanthir nodded and followed behind. There wasn't much room along the ledge that housed a bunch of Egyptian statues, but it was enough that he and Xanthir could sneak along and avoid the throng of Death Eaters coming in their direction.

Unfortunately, it wasn't until after they had settled that he noticed that there was something coming to the surface of the water.

A hand reached out and swayed towards them, making Xanthir next to him tense up tauter than Yankovich on a bad day. Cyrus himself wasn't much better. Now that it had broken the surface of the water, he could _feel_ the amount of death magic coursing inside the pool. At least Xanthir didn't have to feel that nearly crushing presence of _death_.

Nudging it with his death magic, he tried to get it to go away. Unfortunately, it just made another arm reach towards them, and another, and another, until the pools of water started shimmering from the movement underneath as the corpses at very levels of decay tried to get closer to them.

_::…Cyrus?::_

He could hear the fear in Xanthir's voice as the water came alive in front of them, drawing the attention of the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Shit. Shit, damn, fu-

A hand grabbed his ankle and _yanked_, pulling him into the water with a surprised shout. Death magic-filled water poured into his open mouth and he choked on it as his body automatically tried to breath. Dragged into the water, he nearly puked at the feeling of dead flesh pawing at his skin.

Then the biting started.

He couldn't help the scream of pain, regardless of the fact that it disappeared into bubbles above him. The water was so murky that he couldn't see the surface, couldn't tell which direction was up or down, but he could _feel_ the zombies crowding around him, all trying to get a piece, all of them wanting to satiate their millennia-long thirst.

He needed to get them off him before he got eaten alive.

Magic exploded out from his skin in a blaze of power, literally burning away the flesh of the zombies around him. Unfortunately, he didn't account for the magical properties of the water, because just as quickly as his magic poured out it was consumed by the dark, gray sludge. Mentally cursing, he pulled his magic back into him and tried the same thing with his death magic.

Mistake of Epic Proportions didn't even begin to cover that. The sludge sucked it up like a sponge and would have started sucking it out of him if he hadn't cut the connection almost immediately after feeling something _wrong_.

Shit.

And now the zombies were coming back towards him, ignoring their fallen brethren. Shit, shit- What was he supposed to do now? Magic didn't work, death magic was out of the question, and he couldn't feel his mental connection to Xanthir at all. Apparently the death sludge had chopped it off.

A zombie sank its teeth into his leg, another got a hold of his arm. Drawing his magic into him, unable to think of any other way of getting his ass out of this sludgy, disgusting mess, he compressed the power of his entire core under his skin, literally burning the zombie's teeth out of his skin.

His eyes shot open, widening in shock. That was it! Pouring his magic into his skin, he created a barrier inside his body that kept the death sludge around him from sucking it up. He hadn't noticed before when he was panicking, but the sludge couldn't pull it from his body itself, it could only swallow it when he expelled it from his body.

Focusing the energy into healing power, he burned away the infection from the zombie bites and filled in the chunks that the things had taken out of him. It was hard to concentrate with that kind of constant, irritating pain.

Now how to climb out of this hole…

He closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of his magic for a moment, not wanting to think about what lay on the other side of the proverbial wall of death sludge. He could feel it coursing through every cell in his body, invigorating every inch of him and nearly making him bounce with energy and power. He'd never emptied his entire core into his body at one time, after all.

As spark of warmth kindled in his stomach, and he opened his eyes again in determination. He was going to get out of this hellhole with both Xanthir and Bill intact if it was the last thing he did. He felt like he could rule the world in that moment.

Pushing through the bodies of zombies, all of them burning whenever they tried to touch his skin, he finally found his way to a wall. Putting his hand on the stone, he thrust his magic into it and forced it to change shape to his will, creating a set of stairs by cutting away some of the stone and then pulling it down to his feet to create the bottom of the stairs.

Once the stairs were solid, he slowly climbed out of the sludge and dead bodies, ignoring the way the slimy flesh touched him and then slid off, the sludge left behind melting off from the sheer magic concentration in his skin. Halfway up the stairs, he realized that he hadn't been fighting for a breath of air for a good minute now, and he hadn't even noticed. Before he could ponder it much longer, however, the sludge parted around his head and was burned out of his hair by the magic steaming off of him. Airways clear, he took a deep breath and was surprised when he felt like he hadn't stopped breathing at all. Even the sludge he had choked on seemed to have dissolved.

Death Eaters surrounding the top of the staircase backpedaled abruptly when they caught sight of him, eyes widening behind their masks. A few unlucky ones accidentally got pushed into the pool of death sludge on the other side of the room. Cyrus kept his expression as serene as possible, but seeing the looks of awe on their faces…

He got an idea. A terrible, magnificent,_ awful_ idea.

But hey, you only lived once.

Wrapping his magic around him like a second skin, he conjured a set of robes over top of his armor, but made it look as if his clothes had mysteriously come into existence upon him as he came out of the water. His clothes had dissolved inside the death sludge, after all, and his armor was skin-colored.

Taking the last step out of the water, he conjured a pair of golden slippers on his feet, reminiscent of some pictures he'd seen in the Shikaan library late one night when he'd decided to look up the horrible wardrobe ideas of vampires with too much power.

Glowing with golden power, he stood in front of the Death Eaters and Voldemort and scowled a horrific scowl.

"_**Who are you to have awoken me from my slumber?"**_he intoned, using magic to distort his voice. He tried to think of a name buried years back in his memories from elementary school. _**"Bow before your God, Apophis."**_

Even if it didn't work, it was _so_ worth the look on Voldemort's face.

_-Toki Mirage-_

*puts hands up* I got the idea, and my friends on the chat encouraged it! Blame Dreamer for egging me on!

:P

First, I hope that was worth the wait. If it wasn't, then… well… I could say something mean, but I don't feel like it.

Oh, and XXX told me that Dorcas is actually a female name and translates to gazelle. While I do not laugh at this person's issues with this name, I LAUGHED at my character. Because let's admit it, who likes that jerk anyway?

Btw. I'm so entrenched in BS and a bunch of other crap I'm writing that I often lose perspective and forget what I've explained, what isn't obvious, and other loose ends I torture you all with. If you'd like to point these out to me, I will do my best to wrap most of them up before the end of the whole BS thing.

Also, there will be a BS Epilogue. An extended one, post Shikaan schooling. I have /some/ plans for it, but if there's something in particular that you'd like to see (Where a particular character is at, how they got there, how their friendship with Cyrus worked out, a certain pairing, etc), then let me know in a review or PM. Oh, and stop asking for R/Y/C, please. Focus on the /other/ things you'd like to see. This epilogue is basically my present to all of you for sticking with me for so long, so if what you're asking is reasonable, I will do my utmost to incorporate it. As a result, scenes might be out of sequence, but I'm sure you'll all like it anyway. :)

_**EDIT: Everyone seems to have questions about why BS is ending. **_**Yes, it is ending.**_** Details are on my profile. If you have more detailed questions, you may PM me.**_


	28. Chapter TwentyEight: A Bloody Sky

**Bloody Skies**

_oOo_

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

_oOo_

Cyrus hid behind a nearby statue of a serpent with a small curse and grin as a volley of spells were sent his way. What was with people not appreciating his humor? The least Voldemort could have done was be fooled for a second. At least the Death Eaters had valued his awesomeness and gotten halfway to the floor before Voldemort verbally kicked them in the collective ass.

The head of the statue exploded, and Cyrus decided that it wasn't exactly the best hiding place. Using Xanthir's cover fire, he broke into a run towards the exit of the room. Unfortunately, it seemed Voldemort was in control of the zombies in the murky water because they were crawling onto the walkway!

Damn. If only he was far enough in his education that he could take over the lot of dead things and send them Voldemort's way. Pulling out both of his wands, he sent a burst of purifying fire out of the white and a dark incinerating curse out of the black. Ignoring the bits of burning and flying flesh, he repeated the spells on the next batch, and the next, and the next, until the amount of bodies became too numerous for him to take care of. Cursing under his breath at the cesspool of bodies he could sense in the water, he-

He blinked. Turning his attention back to the pools of water, he narrowed his eyes in thought.

Maybe… it was time to pull the plug.

Sheathing his wands, he turned his magic into another golden inferno around him to keep the zombies at bay. Next, he channeled pure magic into both of his hands until swirling globes of gold the size of basketballs had formed. With a burst of magic, they blasted away from him and then came to a stop in the air above the empty ends of the pools.

Bringing his hands down, he brought the magic down on the bottoms of the pools and blew a crater in each of them. The explosion shook the ground under his feet and the very walls of the room, before suddenly the water began to drain, taking more than half the zombies with it.

Drawing both his wands again, he made quick work of the zombies that had managed to crawl onto the small walkway, making his way back to Xanthir again. Unfortunately, it seemed Voldemort wasn't in the mood for games.

Jumping to the side to avoid getting smoked by a Killing Curse, Cyrus cussed and grumbled under his breath about dark lords not having a creative bone in their body. Xanthir started casting as fast as he could speak the incantations, hopefully distracting the bastard enough that Cyrus could make an-

Screams. All spells ceased for a moment at the loud, piercing wails that sounded from- the pools? No, the holes in the pools!

To Cyrus's shock, Voldemort actually cursed out loud before jumping into one of the empty pools, ordering his Death Eaters to kill the intruders as he went. Cyrus had a moment to ponder why Voldemort would give a shit about a bunch of people screaming before he had to dodge a wall of spellfire.

A cool egg cracked over his head, and the next thing Cyrus knew he was being dragged off the walkway and into a corner of the empty pool.

_::You alright?::_ Xanthir's familiar mental voice asked.

Cyrus grunted mentally in answer, getting an amused laugh from the werewolf in return. _::What's with the screaming?::_ he asked, ignoring the spellfire from above for the moment.

_::I dunno. Why do you think he'd go in there? Unless for some reason they were important to him. Maybe his followers are down there?::_

_::Hmm… no, his followers aren't that pathetic. They would probably have been casting curses and shouting, rather than screaming like… like…:: _His brain froze._ ::You don't think… are there _prisoners_ down there?::_

Both he and Xanthir cursed mentally and made a break for the nearest hole. _::Why are we here looking for this guy again? What's so important about him?::_

Cyrus peered over the edge of the hole and grimaced at the sight of bloody corpses all across the damp floor. Some new, some old. _::Shit. Well, Bill's… a brother of some friends. He's a decent guy. Just in the wrong occupation at the moment.::_ Cyrus chewed his lip. _::Think he's down there?::_

A mental shrug. _::No idea. I _can _tell you that there's a lot of blood, though, and not much left alive down there. Do you… want to confirm?::_

Cyrus sighed. _::Well, I'd like to know if he's dead so I can leave, if you know what I mean.::_

With mental agreement, they both jumped over the side and promptly grimaced at the pool of bodies. Some Death Eaters hadn't been that lucky, it seemed. Not with Voldemort throwing around Killing Curses and fiendfyre like they were chump change, protecting… what the? Voldemort was protecting a group of _civilians_ from the zombies?

Unfortunately, it seemed even he couldn't handle their sheer numbers, now that they'd slipped from his control. Perhaps the water had contained some kind of controlling agent? Or maybe he couldn't handle their numbers because he didn't have much death magic?

Not that Cyrus knew how to control permanent zombies. But… he _did_ know how to control and raise dead things. Sucking his normal magic back into his core, he let his death magic fill his body and then sent it out to the bodies strewn about the room. Pushing the energy inside them, he created the tethering line to himself and exerted his will for them to _rise_.

Xanthir jumped beside him. _::Those yours?::_ He asked as corpses around the room slowly began climbing to their feet.

_::Yep. Maybe they'll distract V-man until we can grab Bill. I can see his hair in the group of civilians. No one but the Weasley family has hair that orange.::_

_::Awesome. Let's get him and get the fuck out of here. Dead things give me the creeps – no offense.::_

_::None taken.::_

Knowing a summoning charm wouldn't be one of the best ideas considering the amount of dead things within grabbing distance, Cyrus told his zombies to run interference while he tried to get a portkey to Bill. Xanthir started throwing cover fire, keeping the zombies off his back as he waded his way through the sea of them. Setting one on fire that had tried to bite his neck, Cyrus scowled. There were just so many of the – he cast another blasting hex – fucking things!

Just as he'd made it halfway through, a series of screams filled the room. Craning his neck above the hunched backs of the zombies, he saw that a group of them had managed to get past Voldemort's waning defenses to attack the warders. Cursing, he blasted faster, but it wasn't fast enough.

There was a final shout of pain, and then silence. Cyrus stared in shock, disbelief, and downright irritation that the man he had come to rescue had just had his throat ripped out and was being eaten!

Before he had much more time to think about it, though, the ward that the civilians had been working on exploded, incinerating the bodies and zombies in its immediate vicinity and sending a wave of shrapnel and magic in Cyrus's direction. Instinctually casting a shield, he was unprepared for the sheer _force_ of the explosion that sent him flying, shattering his shield in the process.

When arms caught him and a zombie that had remained tethered to his death magic core responded to his unconscious order and shielded him, Cyrus managed to escape a quick date with a small boulder. The force of it sent them tumbling backwards and crashing to the ground.

_::Fuck. What the hell was that?:: _Xanthir asked in the ensuing silence.

Cyrus sent a mental grunt. _::Hell if I know. But the person we're here for just got eaten, so I'd say we get the-::_

The body in front of him, shielding him, exploded in a blast of guts and ichor. Cyrus had a millisecond to register the sheer fury on Voldemort's face before a Killing Curse had him scrambling to the side. _::Xanthir! Get the fuck out of here!::_

_::I already tried that! The portkey isn't working!::_

Cyrus sent a volley of dark curses in the general direction of Voldemort, telling the zombies still tethered to his death magic core to get in the way and draw fire. He only had about half of them left, but it was better than nothing. _::What? Since when?::_

_::I don't know. Maybe the Death Eaters put up wards after that first round of prisoners escaped? Fred and George... Fucking idiots. Shouldn't have given them portkeys to begin with. Now their goddamned brother's dead and this mission is a scrap anyway.::_ A litany of curses in languages Cyrus couldn't even guess raced across their link, background music to the action movie playing in front of him as Voldemort starting magically throwing boulders and balls of fire at him in between the ever flowing volley of Killing Curses.

_::Draw him a little farther to the right, eh? Your invisibility's gone, but I missed most of the explosion. I'll sneak up behind him.::_

_::Careful. He's a tricky bastard.::_

Xanthir sent a mental grunt of affirmation, but the human didn't have long to think more on it before he had to focus his entire attention on staying alive. All of his zombies had been wiped out at this point, and he didn't have the time or focus to try to raise another batch.

As Cyrus was dodging attacks and sending a few curses flying back at their caster, he had a thought. _::What would Tara do in this situation?::_ He jumped over another curse and overpowered his next blasting hex to the point where it would hopefully overload Voldy's shield. No such luck.

Xanthir mentally snorted. _::Probably bring the ceiling down on us and conjure a sea of blood.::_

Cyrus blinked. _::I'll do the blood, you do the ceiling. Wait until I'm near that exit.::_

_::You're SERIOUS?::_

_::Why not? It's not like anything else is working. This guy has been killing people since he was a teenager.::_

Xanthir sent a mental wave of disbelief, but got into position. Cyrus made his way backwards towards the werewolf and started conjuring with both wands while Xanthir covered him. Using the force of the stream of blood coming from his wands, he hopped and skipped over the bodies on the floor. Seeing the look on Voldemort's face, a mixture of disbelief and amusement, he doubled the amount of magic going into the conjuration and turned his wands into bloody fire hoses.

Voldemort looked decidedly less amused and more irritated when the liquid almost connected with his face. Not that that was Cyrus's fault. After all, how could he be blamed for a megalomaniac's short-sightedness?

Oh, better dodge that AK. Couldn't the old bastard come up with something a little more original? Or had it become such an instinct for the snake that it was his knee-jerk reaction these days? _'Dumbledore thwarts him again? Flash of green light. Harry Potter makes another escape? Solution: Avada Kedavra. Dolores Umbridge starts molesting his Death Eaters? AK that bitch!'_

It was like the DE answer to the question of life itself. What's the point of my wizardly existence? To AK other people of course.

Was that a ro- Holy fuck! Cyrus abruptly turned his jets of blood to the ground and used the sheer force of it to blast himself out of the way of the falling ceiling. _::Hey! A little more finesse would be appreciated! You trying to kill me?::_

_::Well _sorry_, why don't _you_ try taking down an entire ceiling and see how you- AAAH!::_

Cyrus cursed. _::Xanthir? Xanthir?::_ Throwing a volley of curses Voldemort's way, he looked around the rubble for his friend, pushing down the panic clawing at his chest.

_::Cyrus. Get… out…::_

His heart froze in his chest. _::Not without you.::_ Finally! There he was. Running over to the pile of rocks Xanthir had collapsed by, he grabbed the werewolf's prone body and dragged it behind cover. Just as he prepared to ask the werewolf what was wrong, he caught sight of the gaping hole in his abdomen.

Cyrus's heart skipped a beat as he stared down at the bloody mess. No. He- he didn't- couldn't- there wasn't enough time to heal him. Not with Voldemort getting closer to their location with each spell cast. Shit! Shit shit fuck damn fucking-

The rock next to them exploded forcefully, and the shrapnel connected with Cyrus's hastily cast body shield and sent him jerking to the side. Goddamnit! Xanth-

A Cruciatus hit him and sent him rolling in agony in the bloody, murky water that covered the ground. For what felt like an eternity his nerve endings were repeatedly ripped out of his body and then reconnected long enough to send waves of agony tearing up his spine and into his brain. Unable to keep himself from screaming in pain, he tossed and turned and gagged on the blood that found its way into his open mouth and sought to drown him in gore.

Finally the pain stopped for an agonizing moment of silence before a familiar, grating voice hissed through his ears.

"Potter. I'd wondered when you would show up."

Cyrus froze in his haze of pain and dragged his eyes over to the hulking shadow of Voldemort. Preparing multiple curses under his skin, he tried to think of a way to get Xanthir out of there. Alive.

"I don't suppose Dumbledore sent you… No, I didn't think so. He was always too much of a coward. Though I have to say, that was a very interesting dueling style… Where did you learn it, Potter?"

Cyrus's mouth moved on autopilot. "Your mum."

A foot landed in his side, knocking the wind out of him and sending him rolling away a few feet. Farther from Xanthir. "Really now, Potter. Watch your mouth. You wouldn't want your… _friend_ to die in an even more unsightly and painful manner, would you?"

Cyrus growled and tried to push himself to his feet.

"Now now, enough of that. Perhaps you'd stay down if I took out your little friend, hm?"

Cyrus's magic bubbled under his skin. He'd lost his wands in the throws of the Cruciatus, but that hardly mattered. He'd take apart Voldemort limb from limb before he let him hurt one of his friends. With a burst of magic, he sent Xanthir's unconscious body flying farther away from the two of them. With another burst of power, he filled the water around them with electricity and directed it straight towards Voldemort.

Unfortunately, the Dark Lord just cast a spell that melted the energy into nothingness. Cursing to himself, Cyrus cast a fiendfyre whip and let out a shout of frustration when it too was blocked. Before he could cast another spell, a Cruciatus landed on him and sent him into new convulsions of agony. Fuck. Turning on his rune sight with a burn of power, he snapped the curse at its core and made a dash for Xanthir's body.

Two curses hit him in the back, and liquid fire raced up his arms as his legs became paralyzed beneath him and sent him careening back into the filthy water. With his legs unmoving and his arms feeling as though they were being ripped apart from the inside out, there was little he could do besides curl up in agony and try to make it go away. When he tried to use magic to heal it, it burned even more.

"That's better. Stay still while I kill your friend, won't you, Potter? It's the least I can do for all the trouble you've caused this operation."

Cyrus tried to cast a killing curse and screamed in agony when his arms felt as though they'd been doused in lava.

"You just don't learn, do you? That last curse destroyed the magical channels in your arms, fool. You won't be casting magic ever again."

Cyrus felt as though he'd died inside. What?

Voldemort laughed that high pitched, hissing cackle of his that had been the center of so many of Cyrus's adolescent nightmares. "Surprised? I'd heard rumors of your new, private training that was enough to thwart Dumbledore's attempts at recapturing you. Why'd you run away, little savior? Tired of everyone you care about dying?"

The Shikaan student could only watch, helpless, as Xanthir's unconscious body was raised from the muck by his hair.

"I wonder how long he'll survive without legs."

Cyrus's eyes widened in horror as a spell started sawing through the flesh of Xanthir's leg, waking the werewolf up and making him scream in agony. Finally, when the spell had cut all the way through the leg, it dropped to the floor with a wet plop.

Voldemort smirked. "I see that caught your attention. How does it feel, Potter, to know that nothing you can do will save your friend?" The sawing spell changed to hot fire that started cooking through the other limb. First the skin, then the muscle… until Cyrus threw up at the smell of cooked meat. The screams died halfway through as Xanthir passed out from the pain. Voldemort laughed and kept burning through the leg until it fell off. With a sneer, he threw the werewolf's body into the sludge.

"Your friend is stubborn, but he won't survive, Potter. Perhaps you'd like to be next?"

Fury erupted inside Cyrus, and with a scream of agony his magic ripped out of his body from his chest, back, and legs as he went careening towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord struggled at first under the onslaught of pure power, but after a moment shunted the assault aside as though it were a the pitiful attack of a child.

Hopelessness settled in Cyrus's gut as his magic stores, significantly drained already, emptied after his last attack. Collapsing into the carcass-filled water on the floor, he closed his eyes under the onslaught of frustration, pain, and _loss_.

Darkness curled under the black pit that was his stomach, slowly seeping into his limbs and cooling the fire in his arms. He tried to hold back the tidal wave of emotions churning in his stomach, but after a moment it was too much to hold in. Just… too much.

As his emotions exploded from within him, so did something else. Something huge and forgotten and filled with so much darkness that Cyrus's vision blackened under the onslaught until all he could see were black tendrils spreading out in all directions. Searching. Filling. _Raising_.

Moans started up, one at a time. First it was a shuffle and a grunt, then a scrape and a groan, and not long after that a cascade of noise punctuated by Voldemort's shout of surprise.

All Cyrus had wanted to do was protect Xanthir. That was it. It wasn't that hard, right? It wasn't an impossible task. And yet he had failed. Xanthir was… and Voldemort just _stood_ there with a smirk on his face.

Cyrus had never wanted someone to die so much in his entire life.

"Potter! Call them off!"

Wanted him to get eaten alive. Chewed up bit by bit until there was nothing left but a skeleton.

"_Potter!_"

As another burst of coolness filled him to the brim, Cyrus felt something snap inside him. Heard a little voice scream as it was consumed by death. Didn't much care that it had died under the onslaught of power. Didn't much care if _he_ died under the onslaught of power.

Something hit him. Cyrus could feel it from a certain perspective, but not first hand. It almost felt as though it were happening to someone else.

"_Potter if you don't call …ff your…d…feri…ill…"_

Sound faded. Everything faded until finally, there was blessed silence.

_Silence._

_oOo_

When Cyrus woke up next, it was to a lot of continuous and unpleasant moaning. No, wait. Chanting. Chanting? Who the hell, and for what fucking reason, was chanting? He already had a headache the size of Dalesh's ego, why did the world wish to exacerbate it so?

His frown deepened. And what was with the occasional murmurs and terrified cries of children?

Wait a-

Forcing his eyes open, Cyrus tried to focus on the whirling mesh of shadow and color swirling in his eyesight. Blinking repeatedly, he forced himself into a seated position and gripped his head in pain as the headache became worse. What the _fu-_

His thought process froze at the sight of crimson cloud cover hanging magically beneath the architecture of a very familiar ceiling. Ripping his eyes away from the blood-filled sky above, he was instead met with the sight of huddling black-robed children. Frightened eyes met his own above familiar crests of red, blue, and yellow.

No.

Craning his head around, he caught sight of more of them. Hundreds, even. All of them huddled together, frightened, crying, murmuring to each other, and watching him with trepidation. Looking down at himself, it took a moment for his brain to shift into the perspective of a normal human being and see what they saw. That is, a man decked out in a strange battle outfit covered in blood, gore, and bruises.

Just lovely. Tara would probably say it brought out the color of his eyes.

His lighthearted mood in the face of this shit-tastic situation shattered at the memory of his friend. A memory which connected unerringly to the thought of Xanthir. Who was…

Agony, pain, and fury tore through him and left him breathless in their wake. He gripped his chest when it felt as though his heart had been ripped from him. And it had. Just as his friend had been ripped from him in such a brutal way.

He wasn't feeling nearly so confident about anything, now.

"Who are you?" a quiet voice asked.

Cyrus turned his attention to the little kid and wondered if he knew anything about anything. "How did Voldemort break into Hogwarts?" he questioned right back.

The kid gasped and stared at him in shock. "Y-you-! Don't say his name!"

Cyrus snorted. "Just answer the question, kid."

The ickle firstie (maybe second year?) frowned at that and gathered up all his courage in a glare. "I'm not a kid!"

Cyrus raised an intolerant eyebrow. "When a man covered in blood that is obviously not his own asks you why the latest megalomaniac terrorist has broken into a school full of children, an _adult_ answers him. A _child_ complains about accurate salutations after having failed to provide his name."

The kid stared at him in incomprehension.

"He broke in last night," a quiet voice interrupted them. Cyrus turned his attention to the girl and a frisson of shock raced through him at the familiar bushy hair. "He… might have had help from a student." She shook her head sadly. "Dumbledore… most of the teachers didn't make it."

Cyrus stared. Dumbledore… was dead? When the hell had this all happened? "What's the date?" When Hermione rattled it off with a weird look, he barely noticed the stares he was getting. A day and a half. He'd been unconscious for that long? Why hadn't Voldemort killed him when he had the chance?

And what had happened back in Egypt?

"You're… you're Harry, aren't you?" Hermione asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Cyrus turned his attention to her with a scowl. "Who?"

She shook her head with a small smile. "I know you are. Voldemort was far too pleased and pissed when the Death Eaters tossed you in here with us." Her expression darkened slightly. "Do you have any way of getting us out of here?"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at her and looked around, assessing the situation as he checked his magic and death magic levels, both of which were extremely _low_. "Dunno. What the fuck's going on right now? Why's he got everyone _here_ of all places?" Though, to be honest, the Great Hall would be an ideal location for public genocide.

Hermione shrugged. "Most of us are trapped inside this circle, though some of the children are being held outside of it. I don't know why. I've been trying to analyze some of the runes for days, but no luck. Most of them I don't even recognize, let alone know how to translate." She wilted after that, most of the spirit drained out of her. Had that happened after he left, or after Ron died?

"Runes, huh," he deadpanned. Lucky him, Voldemort picking something he'd been studying quite extensively all year. Here's hoping he actually recognized some of them, too… Closing his eyes, he turned on his rune sight and focused in on the giant circle that surrounded them.

Oh… Oooh… Aw, naaah… Voldemort wouldn't really- Oh. Wait, what…? Ah fuck.

"We're fucked." Turning off his rune sight, he shook his head, all the runes he'd seen flashing through his brain at lightning speed. "It's a sacrificial rune circle. From what I can make out of it, the barrier keeps the sacrifices trapped inside until they're needed, amongst other things. If you try to leave the circle anyway, you get a nasty shock. If you try to break the circle, you get knocked unconscious."

Hermione was watching him with wide eyes. "H-how did you know all that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm going to a better school than you. What did you expect?"

"No, I mean-"

The tittering rise of emotional children's voices cut her off, and soon everyone's attention turned to the cloaked figure standing on the raised floor where the teachers used to sit. Voldemort.

"Today, children, you're all going to be part of a moment that will go down in history!" the Dark Lord hissed, a pleased smirk twisting his lipless mouth. Cyrus immediately started reanalyzing what he'd taken in of the rune circle. What could he break that would cause the most destruction…

"Bellatrix, if you would do the honor…"

The crazed woman grinned brightly and grabbed one of the small children still outside the circle. With a laugh, she slit the boy's throat and held it over a large basin that, so far, hadn't caught Cyrus's attention. The screams of fright from the other children did little to help his concentration. Once the boy's blood had been drained from his body (and Bellatrix had checked, holding him up by his feet with magic and jerking the body up and down), they grabbed another child. And another… until finally, the large basin was filled with blood.

Cyrus tried not to think about them as little people whose lives had just ended early. It made this whole situation easier to think of them as merely objects. Tools Voldemort planned to use for his benefit.

Then Voldemort started speaking in a language that Cyrus didn't recognize. He began to gesture at the smaller rune circle in which he stood, then at the larger circle filled with unwilling sacrifices, all the while holding the basin of blood in his hand.

Magic curled at Cyrus's feet, but it wasn't any magic he'd felt before. It was… dark. Darker than the Dark Arts he'd been delving into for the past year. It burned and pooled around his ankles even as the rune circles began to glow with power.

He had to do something…

"Hey Tom! I never thought you were one to go with old remedies, but didn't someone tell you that bathing in the blood of virgins doesn't _actually_ make you more youthful? I mean, you could certainly use the make over, but what's to guarantee they were even virgins? Kids these day are having sex at weird ages, you know."

Voldemort paused in his chanting and glared at Cyrus with a fury that hardly inspired fear considering he couldn't enter the big circle anyway. "_Potter_. I thought you would remain unconscious for the remainder of our preparations. How remiss of me to think you could be anything but the bane of my existence."

Cyrus widened his eyes in innocence even as he stood and moved down the path that the students had created for him. Directly to Voldemort. Some of them watched him with awe, dislike, hope… He ignored them all, his entire attention focused on the snake standing beyond the edge of the circle. "What? How could I be anything but irritating? Didn't you know that every single thing I do, I do it just so I can annoy you in your cut off little hole of the world? To be honest, I wasn't sure if you were going to make an appearance this year, without my sweet ass in Hogwarts to tempt you away from your boring, pedophilic existence."

Red eyes narrowed, and the Dark Lord hissed. "My world hardly revolves around your pubescent trifles, _Potter_."

Even as he pondered the correct response, an idea began to take root in Cyrus's head as he eyed the corpses sitting not far away from the Death Eaters. How to best use this to his advantage… "Truly? Didn't seem like that was the case two years ago. My pubescent trifles were what upgraded you from snake-like baby gnome to snake-like adult gnome." Smiling widely, he batted his eyelashes even as he funneled death magic into the floor beneath him. He didn't want to test the channels of his arms, but his legs were fair game. Before Voldemort could begin to bluster angrily or move along with the ritual (oh how he did _enjoy_ blathering about his nefarious plots), Cyrus pushed on. "I mean, really? Was all this truly necessary? Couldn't you have found some unsuspecting muggle town to sacrifice instead of all these gifted little magical brats? You _do_ realize you're culling the herd of your future worshipers, _right?_ Not a very smart decision for any evil overlord, I assure you."

As Voldemort's fury increased to unprecedented levels, Cyrus was really glad that his buried mind kept him from feeling the full effects of it. Ha! Take that, stupid bastard. Before he could gloat at the way he could unerringly incite the old snake to fury, unfortunately, the anger was wiped away by sheer, smug narcissism. "They've all been turned to Dumbledore's ways, Potter, just as you were. Why not sacrifice the Gryffindors that would cause me unending amusement and annoyance with their blatant disregard for self-preservation and common sense?"

Cyrus snorted. "Well, you got me there. Though, your current minions don't seem much more intelligent than some of the Gryffindors I've met. Shouldn't you weigh the pros and cons more thoroughly? I mean, with Peter as one of your only Gryffindor supporters, he hardly leaves the best of impressions. One person is hardly a representative for an entire group of people, after all. Didn't you learn about this stuff in muggle elementary? Your education must be severely lacking."

The fury notched back up again. "_Silence_, Potter. Your voice is a grating interruption to a ritual that is the epitome of all the Dark Arts."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow even as he finished channeling the proper ropes of death magic into the ground and hooked them back up to ensnare the dead children not too far away. If he charged them with enough death magic and enough purpose… they weren't that long dead. Chances were high that they'd be able to move faster than a regular human. The question was, use them now, or interrupt the ritual at its climax and hope it fried Voldemort in the backlash?

No, he didn't want to risk his life on guesswork. Better to go with the quick and dirty route.

"Really? The 'epitome of all the Dark Arts', you say?" He snorted. "It looks like something my teacher would draw on a chalkboard to prove a point about how certain fools of the highest caliber believe that sacrificing people can give you more power. Didn't you ever hear of the Sorcerer Trials? People have already tried this shit, hundreds of years ago. What makes you think _you'll_ succeed where they failed?"

Sometimes reading too much did come in handy.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "This is a two thousand year old ritual used long before our time, _Potter_. Magic was far purer in this form, back before the muggles diluted our blood to the point of uselessness."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Really. And what is this 'awesome power' that will help you take over the world, oh mighty evil overlord?"

Voldemort hissed again in anger. Really, it was too easy pulling information from this guy. He was just too happy to share and blather his brilliance to any dumbfuck who would listen. The more Cyrus knew, the more likely he would succeed.

Channeling more and more death magic into the children's corpses, he tightened the noose of his control around them even as they began to twitch into awareness. Oh no, that wouldn't do. He couldn't have them _intelligent_. It was a perversion of all things a necromancer could do, but he hadn't been researching death magic for the past year to come out of it without a _few_ despicable and truly war-worthy ideas. With another twist of death magic, he corroded the intelligence stored in their brains and hyped up the aggression. _Almost there_.

"I am hardly as mentally incapable as _you_, Potter. I've been planning this ritual for months! Hunting down scrolls in Egypt, Brazil, Russia, China… When I succeed, I will have absolute power over the lost art! True Dark Magic! None of this watered down, wand-waving Dark Arts, but true _Dark power!_"

As he started cackling that high pitched, irritating and insane laughter, Cyrus stopped pumping death magic into his prone zombies and held them at the ready.

"_Behold, Potter! This is true POWER!"_

As Voldemort plunged his hands into the vat of blood, many things happened at the same time. The children around him screamed in fear. The dark magic curling at Cyrus's ankles anchored itself to his body and began to drain energy from him. The rune circles glowed with red light as Voldemort chanted the last of his ritual.

And Cyrus's zombies were released from his control. The pile of bodies sprang to life even as Cyrus forced his death magic back into his core and called on his rune sight. The Death Eaters screamed as many powerful little bodies, starving for flesh, turned on them and started eating them alive. Voldemort had slit the throats of almost two-dozen children, after all.

And the killer was, even as Voldemort's followers started dying in droves, no matter how many curses they cast, the Dark Lord didn't even notice. No, he was enraptured by the blood that had started to creep up his arms from the vat and the dark power that curdled around everyone's feet.

Cyrus wasted no time in snapping the connecting rune sequence that shielded anything from entering or leaving the circle.

"_Hermione!"_ he shouted into the chaos. _"Evacuate the students!"_

But as Cyrus turned around, he clenched his fists in dismay at the sight of children dropping like flies. Most of them didn't have the control and mastery over their magic to keep the dark power from sapping at their energy. Cyrus himself was having trouble, but he had far more magic than the average wizard, even with it depleted like this.

Cussing under his breath, he ran through the dropping children and found Hermione with a group of kids around her, a terrified expression on her face as they clung to her and some of the other older students he hadn't noticed the first time.

"IDIOTS!" he barked, catching all their attention in spite of the screaming wails of the Death Eaters and the low-pitched buzz that had started to ring in his ears. "The damned shield is down, you imbeciles! _RUN!_"

Grabbing Hermione by the collar of her robes – _and really, he had no idea why, but for some reason he didn't want to see her turned into a smear on the floor too – _he forcefully pulled her to the far edge of the circle, the farthest from the crazy zombie children running around eating anything that moved. With a heave of his arm, he yanked her out of the circle with him and pushed her in the direction of the door.

She flashed him a wild-eyed look of shock, but he was having none of it. Slapping her across the face, he barked at her to run for it.

Students still possessing some level of intelligence were quick to follow, but unfortunately it was only some of the older, more trained students that made it. Cyrus himself stood at the edge of the circle for a long moment, heaving for breath as the heavy weight of the dark magic pulling at his feet was forcibly ripped from him.

Staring into the circle, he frowned and reactivated his rune sight. There had to be some way to-

An explosion of power sent his body careening towards the wall of the Great Hall, and it was only instinct that formed the shield around his body before he was turned to a smear on the wall. Unfortunately, even after bouncing off the wall, he was still hit by a rain of bodies.

Had the circle been the epicenter of the blast?

Pushing the bodies off him with magic, he was unprepared for the sheer destruction of the room. A hole had been _blown through the ceiling_, and even if Cyrus hadn't created those zombie fiends, he doubted any of the Death Eaters would have survived that.

At the epicenter of the explosion stood a red figure, completely unaffected by the debris floating in the air around it. Cyrus cleared his lungs of some dust and wondered if that was Voldemort.

The head swiveled towards him and Cyrus froze, staring into the red shadows that seemed to be eyes. Okay, he wasn't sticking around to find out. Forcing himself to his feet, he moved to start limping towards the door and froze when the red figure, which had been nearly fifty meters away, suddenly appeared to be standing right next to him. He stared at the shiny, bloodied figure for a long moment in shock before taking an instinctual step back.

When it spoke, it wasn't English. Cyrus stared. The red thing smirked.

"Ah yes, you speak a different tongue, do you not, little necromancer."

Cyrus took another step back.

"What is this? Fear? You did not fear the man you call _Voldemort_." A cross between a snort and a 'tsk'. "A pitiful man, really. His soul was easy to devour, torn as it was." A laugh. "I can smell a piece of it on you, but it is… gone now. You must have devoured it yourself." A bloody hand came up to trace a line down his cheek. "So fair... and eyes greener than the life around an oasis. You will make a good servant."

Cyrus opened his mouth to say _what the fuck_, but found himself unable to move or speak as that finger drew away.

"Stay here a moment. We have visitors."

Cyrus's eyes swiveled around as, at that moment, a team of Aurors burst into the room, wands raised. Before they could do more than stare at the destruction and bodies everywhere, they started dropping like flies. There was little Cyrus could do but watch in horror as what appeared to be their _souls_ were ripped from their bodies and funneled down the throat of the blood-covered… whatever it was.

"There, now that the interruption has been taken care of…" The red man reappeared in front of Cyrus, except now it seemed as though the blood was slowly being washed away by invisible water, revealing dark, tanned skin underneath. Skin as far from _Voldemort's_ skin as could be physically possible. What the _fuck_ had been that ritual?

Blood flowed away from a handsome face, revealing sharp lines, high cheekbones, and a pair of glowing, golden eyes. The corner of smooth lips rose in amusement. "Do you like what you see, my little necromancer?"

If Cyrus could speak, he would have had a few choice words to say to _that_ comment. And he would have told the guy to get some clothes on. Where had Voldemort's robes gotten to?

"Oh, you're right. A bath is probably in order. It is hardly becoming to track blood across the floor, no?"

Right. And the bodies and gore from the explosion meant nothing, ri- oh wow that was trippy. Cyrus collapsed onto a familiar marble floor as the spell holding him captive released. How had they gotten to the prefects' bathroom?

All the water facets turned on at the same time, creating an interesting mix of different colored soap bubbles and shapes. With all of them on at the same time, it didn't take long for the tub to fill to the top. It _was_ a magic tub after all. Cyrus watched warily as the tanned and toned man slipped into the bath with nary a glance in his direction.

What the _hell_ was-

He yelped in surprise as magic bonds wrapped around his body and pulled him towards the tub. The man was watching him now, eyes sharply contrasted with what now appeared to be black hair. "Join me, little necromancer."

It wasn't a request.

Clenching his jaw, Cyrus started pulling his clothes off one at a time, slowly, hoping the man would get bored of watching him and look away. Except, he didn't. His eyes traced every curve of Cyrus's body as it was revealed, until finally his suit had been removed and he stood naked on the edge of the tub. The magic bonds wrapped around him again and lifted him down into the warm water of the tub, and there was nothing Cyrus could do to stop it.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him into a toned chest. Cyrus tried to ignore the way their bodies seemed to fit together, and the way a suspicious hardness settled between the cheeks of his ass.

"Necromancers are a rare breed," the man whispered in his ear, teeth and tongue trailing the shell of his ear with patient curiosity. "I only ever had three during the entire time of my rule. That says much, does it not?" He ground against Cyrus, and the human tensed. "Are you unfamiliar with a man's touch, my little necromancer?" A deep chuckle. "I will take it slow, fear not. Only the best for one of your power." The man's nose nudged his filthy blond locks. "Mmm… you smell of such _power_, little one. The creature who brought me down did not have the same… appreciation for one of your beauty. His mind was torn from separating his soul with hopes of immortality." Cyrus's breath froze in surprise. "Oh? You did not know? While he achieved a crude, false immortality, his soul was easy enough to consume. There is never _true_ immortality. There are only those who are powerful enough to overcome the passing of time, as I have. There is always a fool willing to offer his body for more power."

The grinding increased and Cyrus's patience disintegrated. With a forceful pull of his magic, he broke the bindings holding him in place and put some distance between himself and the crazy new psycho trying to ruin his life.

Aforementioned psycho just looked amused. "Now, now, what is this? Shy?"

Cyrus frowned and put more distance between them. "I don't have sex with people I don't know."

The man just laughed. "Very well then, little necromancer. My name is _Set_. What is yours?"

His frown deepened. "…Cyrus."

The man reappeared in front of him with a benevolent smile. "See? Now we know each other." Before Cyrus could say another word, he'd been bodily lifted out of the tub, placed on the edge, and Set had swallowed his cock whole. Letting out a knee-jerk moan, he tried to pull the man's head off of him, but that _tongue_. Collapsing back against the marble floor, he cracked his head on the floor and arched under the heat of that mouth. It felt like his body was on _fire_.

Wait. His body _was_ on fire. Gasping in shock, he tightened his hold on that hair and pulled, but Set was too strong for him. Unable to move under the onslaught of the man's mouth and magic, he let out a scream of rage and called on his magic to throw the man off him. Instead of doing what he wanted, though, it went straight _through_ Set, and then cycled back straight down his cock.

Orgasm blasted through him painfully as the magical overload of his own magic funneling into the channels of his groin set his channels on fire. Moaning in agony and pleasure, all he could do for a moment was lay there as sparks burst behind his eyes and his magic tried to regain its equilibrium.

A jolt of electricity raced up his spine and sent more fireworks off in his brain, interrupting whatever had been going through his mind a moment earlier. The warmth slowly faded, draining from his body through his fading erection. The warm mouth left him as he laid there, all the energy drained from his euphoric body.

"Did you enjoy that, my little necromancer?"

Cyrus looked up and met liquid gold eyes. "Yes, Master Set."

His master smiled. "That's a good pet."

_oOo_

Tara stood at the foot of a bed covered in white sheets and scowled. "What the fuck do you mean you can't reattach them?"

Svea grimaced. "I'm afraid that, in the time it took for you to find him, his body healed the wounds to prevent him from bleeding to death. The legs have decayed too much, as well. They wouldn't work again even if we _did_ reattach them. They would merely rot and spread gangrene to the rest of his body."

Tara let out a loud growl of anger and clenched her fists at her sides. How she wanted to punch someone's face in at that moment. Preferably Cyrus's. Stupid fucking little twat of a human DICK! Why the fuck hadn't he phoned her? Instead she had shown up so late Xanthir would never regain his arms and legs and Cyrus was MIA. Stupid little shit. She should have gone with him. Should have known he would fuck it up. Little incompetent little _shit._

Sinking her right fang through her lower lip, she jerked her head in acknowledgment to Svea. "I understand. Do what you can for him. I have an idiot to rescue."

Svea hummed thoughtfully. "I take it you are going to find Mr. Obsidian?"

She nodded. "For all I know he's managed to get himself killed. Stupid fucking retarded piece of _figrish_ brains." Storming out of the room, she kept muttering insults under her breath, ignoring the look of amusement Svea sent her when she slammed the door.

The little _shit!_

Walking the rest of the way back to her room to exorcise some of her fury, she tried to come up with a plan of attack. Last she knew, they'd been in Egypt. From what Svea could tell her about Xanthir's limbs, they'd gone through around six hours of decay before she'd searched him out and found him. In reality, it was amazing that he'd _survived_ at all. This didn't make her any less pissed, of course. Should have known that any mission Cyrus went on always went to shit.

Ignoring the stinging in her nose – she must have breathed in some dust – she sank her fang farther into her lower lip. She never should have let those two go together. Retards.

Slamming into her room, she started pulling out all the things she'd need for the bit of blood magic that would tell her their resident idiot's location. Pulling out the crystal that she'd infused with his magic, she set the last of the items on her table.

Alright. Time to get to it.

Unfortunately, five hours later found her redoing the ritual for the third time with no success. He was completely blocked from her. How was that even _possible?_ No simple warding could cut her off from locating him that completely. He must be in some crazy lock down for her spell to fail.

There was no way he was dead. He was just too fucking stubborn.

Unfortunately, even after sleeping (more like tossing and turning) for eight hours, the results were the same. Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Grabbing the nude vase that her Aunt had sent her as a gag birthday gift last year, she threw it against the wall and listened to it shatter with pleasure. Repairing it with a spell, she threw it again. And again.

Once she was sure that she wouldn't kill the next unsuspecting bastard she came across, she shadow walked to Xanthir.

He was still there. Nothing had changed. He was still unconscious. Svea and Rivehn were talking about something in hushed voices, though.

"Oh, Tara. You're back, I see. Did you find Mr. Obsidian?" Svea asked.

She sank her fang back into her lower lip and shook her head.

Svea hmmed. "That's too bad. I do have _some_ good news for you, however. Rivehn seems to think it might be possible to create prosthetic limbs for Mr. Thanatos. Of course, there are no guarantees. Unfortunately, I don't believe that Mr. Thanatos will be able to afford the costs of a theoretical venture of that magnitude."

Tara stared at them and pulled her fang out of her lip. "I would happily contribute funds to the research project if it would get Xanthir back on his feet again, Rivehn."

The High Council member nodded. "So would I, Tara. However, getting a team of individuals together for a project of that magnitude… it would be difficult."

She nodded. "Whatever it takes."

He inclined his head, acknowledging both her bond to Xanthir, and her unspoken message. The friend of a vampire _stayed_ a friend of a vampire. There was no half assing it when it came to that, and she'd made her demands very obvious to him. He'd offered some financial support as well. With a High Council member offering his assistance, as well as a respected Rune Master of the scholastic community… well, she would be very shocked indeed if he failed to bring the people together for this project. Every thousand-year-old vampire enjoyed a challenge.

Now she just needed to find her other friend. "Rivehn, can you, perchance, think of another method of finding someone when blood tracing has failed?"

Two sets of eyebrows rose in surprise at that, and immediately Tara's stomach took a nosedive.

"A blood trace failed? That is rare indeed. For that to happen… Obsidian must be dead, buried beneath incredibly powerful magical wards, _or_ contained by blood seals of some kind."

Tara frowned. "Blood seals?"

Rivehn nodded. "Runes have existed since the beginning of magic. However, different cultures have different ways of approaching their use. Blood seals were particularly popular in Egypt and with the ancient Druids."

Tara frowned. "What kinds of things can you do with blood seals?"

Rivehn shrugged. "Just about anything."

Tara scowled. "Well, then can we find Cyrus with them?"

He shook his head. "Not if he's being hidden by blood seals."

Clenching her fists, she barely kept herself from punching through a wall. "Then what the hell can we do?" she growled between gritted teeth.

Rivehn frowned. "I will look through my texts. See if there is a way to circumvent a blood seal protection."

"But how do you know it's a blood seal? You said it could be three things."

Rivehn's purple eyes glowed with power as he looked at her, and for the first time in a long time, Tara was forcefully reminded of exactly _who_ she was questioning. "He is not dead. There aren't wards powerful enough in this entire world to circumvent _my_ blood trace." Her eyes widened at that. "So the only remaining obstacle… is a blood seal. Good day, Tara." He vanished in a flicker of shadow.

Tara let out a slow breath. Well. Apparently stuck up Rivehn had had his feathers ruffled a little bit. Tara had always suspected that he invested more than was normal in Cyrus. Now she _knew_ he had been keeping an eye on the human.

Too bad it hadn't done much good in the end.

_oOo_

Cyrus let out a content sigh as fingers artfully carded through his drying hair. He was so _tired_, and even a little light headed and nauseous. After Master Set had discovered his little magic sensitivity, they hadn't left the bath until the water began to cool. And after that, Cyrus had shown him the wonders of king sized beds in the Room of Requirement. He had to say, Egyptian priests who had the ear of the Pharaoh must have lived in quite the luxury. Once Set had realized the magic of the room, he had changed it into his chambers from his old life.

Stretching under the warmth of the sun peaking through the cloth drapes, Cyrus let out another sigh and rubbed his cheek against hot, bronze skin.

"Do you enjoy this place, pet?"

Cyrus smiled. "I like that you like it," he said, absently tracing patterns on his Master's skin.

Set smiled. "Tell me of this world, my little necromancer. What awaits us outside these halls?"

"Hmm…" Cyrus had to think about that for a moment. "Well… most of this world is inhabited by non magical humans. Those who are magical usually isolate themselves. For instance, in Other Realm there are _only_ magical beings."

"Tell me of this Other Realm."

"Well… I've been going to school there for the past year. I've learned more there than I ever did in this school."

Set's eyebrows rose. "This is a school?"

Cyrus nodded. "Unfortunately, Voldemort killed most of the student population to bring you here."

Set's fingers entrapped his chin. " 'Unfortunately,' my pet?"

Green eyes lowered in regret. "I didn't mean to say that I am not happy you are here, my Master. I only wished to imply my lack of respect for the one named Voldemort. He has been my adversary for a long time." It tugged at him, that knowledge. Voldemort had been an enemy. But why was the memory kind of hazy? No, it wasn't hazy so much as… his mind avoided it.

Interesting.

Set smiled indulgently at him. "I know you would never insult me knowingly, my pet. I was only teasing." Cyrus preened under the attention and pressed his cheek into the cupped hand caressing his face. "Tell me more of this place. Are there more powerful beings like yourself?"

"Oh yes. Masters Rivehn and Yankovich are very powerful and skilled, as well as-" A hand slapped across his cheek, surprising and confusing him. "Master Set?"

Steel fingers dug into his chin. "I am your only master, is that understood, little necromancer?"

"O-of course, Master Set. I don't know what I said to-"

"You referred to 'Masters Rivehn and Yankovich'. Who are these people?" Set snarled.

Cyrus blinked tears away from his eyes. "T-they are teachers only, Master! M- Rivehn is a Runes Master and Yankovich has a Mastery in Necromancy!" When the fingers clenching his face so tightly released, he let out a breath of relief. He would have to be careful not to refer to Masters Rivehn and Yankovich by their proper title again, if it bothered Master Set so.

"So they are merely your teachers, not carriers of your devotion?"

Cyrus's levels of distress rose. "Of course not, Master! You are my only Master!" Letting out a sob, he buried his face in Set's chest and tried to calm the racing of his heart and breath. When a hand started carding through his hair again, he relaxed bonelessly against his Master.

"Good, my pet. Your devotion is mine only."

"Yes, Master Set!" he kept his face buried in the man's chest to keep the sliver of betrayal, slicing through his being, hidden. Masters Rivehn and Yankovich had come first. It was wrong of Master Set to get angry with him over that. But he dare not say that to his new Master's face. He had already reacted terribly.

Cyrus wanted to see Masters Rivehn and Yankovich again so _badly_.

"A Rune Master and a Master Necromancer… you will take me to them. I will see if they are worthy."

Cyrus frowned slightly. "Worthy of what, my Master?" he murmured into the warm chest.

"Why, my love of course."

Outwardly the frown smoothed, but on the inside a rock fell into the pit of his stomach. A Master was never to be enslaved to another. It was just… wrong. He didn't know why, but it was. "Of course, Master Set," he said instead, shoving his doubts down deep.

_oOo_

Rivehn scowled as he looked down at the many books strewn across his desk and floor. They'd decided to come back to his manor, since he had a far larger collection of books in his personal library and study. Picking up his favorite paperweight, an amethyst stone, he crushed it into dust in his hand and let it sieve through his fingers and fall onto the carpet.

Nothing. He hadn't found a single damned thing in the past twenty hours he'd wasted looking for a tracking spell that would overcome blood seals. It was driving him spare.

"Still no luck?" Yankovich asked, walking into the room with two glasses of _Talgrise_ in hand.

Rivehn tossed back the first in one gulp and sipped on the second. "Nothing. I am beginning to wonder if he is indeed de-"

"Rivehn!" the familiar voice of Tara cut through their conversation.

The vampire raised a hand to his temples and gently kneaded. "If that woman asks _one more time_ if I've had any more progress… I cannot fathom why I ever keyed her into the wards."

Yankovich just snickered, prompting Rivehn to smack him over the head.

However, when Tara came bursting into the room, it was with a bright smile as she dragged the object of their search behind her. "He just showed up at Shikaan! Isn't this great? I was tempted to beat the shit out of him, but he said that he had something extremely important to tell you both and asked if I would bring him to you."

Rivehn met the green eyes of his student and frowned slightly at the look on the boy's face. There was something… odd. "Thank you, Tara. You may leave." When she opened her mouth to protest, he continued, "Perhaps Xanthir has awakened? It would be unfortunate if he awoke and you were not there to help him come to grips with his situation."

The weird look on Cyrus's face intensified. "Xanthir… is alive?" he asked haltingly.

Tara smacked him upside the head. "No thanks to you, idiot. Next time _call_ me when you need back up." She turned her attention back to Rivehn. "If you need me to come by to pick up the pieces later, just text me. Ciao!" She vanished into a nearby shadow.

Cyrus stared after her, a flabbergasted expression on his face. It was almost as if… he'd forgotten how Tara could be. He was genuinely surprised.

Rivehn's frown deepened. "What is it you wished to share with me, Cyrus?"

Green eyes flickered back and forth between him and Yankovich. "It is not I who wishes to share, but Master Set."

Before Rivehn could open his mouth to react, blood seals skated across Cyrus's skin and a man _separated from him._ Standing up, he ignored the toppling of his seat and the shattering of the glass he dropped.

Golden eyes met stormy violet. "A pleasure to meet you, Rivehn. My pet has said such flattering things about you." The- the _man_, for Rivehn failed to think of a more appropriate and derogatory term to call him, traced a finger down the curve of Cyrus's jaw with a self-satisfied smirk. "Oh yes. And I can see that they were all true. You smell of great power." Golden eyes closed for a moment as he breathed in the air of the room. "You have a large collection of books. I will read them later."

Rivehn snapped into action faster than Yankovich, stewing behind him in obvious anger, could move. Unfortunately, his physical strike was caught in an inhumanly strong hand. He tried to pull away, but the power roiling inside the man's body kept him immobile. Immediately he knew that it had been unwise to charge in so recklessly, but the way he had _touched_ Cyrus… It had incited him to such fury.

"You will release Cyrus from your spell, _immediately_, or I will rend you limb from limb," he growled dangerously, summoning his magic to him to break the strange hold the other man held over him. Without the aid of that strange, foreign magic, it was easy to pull away and put some more distance between them.

The man – _Set_, Cyrus had called him – smirked slowly, eyes raking up and down Rivehn's form. "Not only powerful, but delicious as well. I will enjoy fucking you as I did my little necromancer."

_oOo_

Cyrus internally winced as the Master so tactlessly shoved their joining in the faces of Masters Rivehn and Yankovich. For some reason, his insides squirmed at the thought of them _knowing_ what he had participated in. What he had been made to enjoy. Made…?

His head started swimming, but not so badly that he missed Master Rivehn's reaction at the information. At first, both Master Rivehn and Master Yankovich had frozen, but Master Rivehn was the first to break the uncomfortable silence with a burst of pure and furious _power_ that had Cyrus nearly collapsing in ecstasy then and there. He remembered this power. It was familiar on a level that Master Set's was not. While Master Set had had to push his power into Cyrus for it to cause him pleasure, Rivehn's mere magical presence seemed to have just as strong an effect.

Why was that? And why did he not remember the reason why Rivehn and Yankovich were his Masters? Whenever he tried to question it too deeply, his mind became fuzzy and confused.

Either way, he was no longer quite so sure that he wanted Set to be his Master.

_oOo_

Rivehn's fury knew no bounds. The familiarity made his stomach clench in disgust and anger. To know that Cyrus had been slave bound to this maggot and then taken for what had probably been hours… and from the looks of it, his psyche had been so bent by the slave bond as to enjoy it.

Rivehn could see it in glazed, green eyes. But it was a small sliver of shame that stopped Rivehn from rashly tearing down his entire manor to get at this bastard. It was the shiver that raced up the young human's spine when Rivehn's power flooded the room, so reminiscent of the time the poor kid had first seen Rivehn and Yankovich 'together'. It was the way his eyes moved back and forth between the back of Set and his two teachers. All of it screamed of _awareness._

Awareness of what, Rivehn fully intended to find out.

Unfortunately, it seemed Yankovich had missed these subtle inconsistencies, for his death magic had exploded in a terrible torrent that sought to rip the soul from the intruder's body. Neither expected the events that resulted, however.

Just as the soul jerked within the confines of the interloper's body, Yankovich's magic was thrown back against him, sending him flying across the room and careening into the wall with the sheer force of it.

Set 'tsk'ed. "Now, now, enough of that. I would hate to have to devour your soul, necromancer. You will make such a promising addition to my collection."

Rivehn used the moment of distraction to analyze the blood seals he could see on Cyrus's person with his rune sight. Having mastered it centuries ago, it was a simple thing to activate it only in one eye, so he could keep his attention trained on Set's movements.

Yankovich could handle a little beating, after all, while Rivehn gathered information.

It seemed to be a relatively archaic slave bond, to be honest. Rivehn could name five different kinds that were more effective and longer lasting. That of course didn't mean that it would be much easier to break… well, for anyone not a Rune Master with rune sight.

A smirk crept across his lips. Cyrus's explosion should prove a strong enough distraction for Rivehn to kill the nuisance. With a twinge of mental control, even as Set approached Yankovich to infect him with a similar contract, Rivehn broke the bonds that tangled his student's thought processes.

This would prove to be entertaining.

_oOo_

Cyrus didn't know when exactly it happened. To be honest, it kind of felt like sitting in a mud bath for hours, only to climb out and feel like you were covered in grit clinging to your clothes, between your toes, and generally making you feel icky and gross.

That was his first impression.

Not to mention the headache. He'd suffered weird mental shit before with Dumbledore's brambles and all, but this was a different kind of mental ass-raping.

That was his second impression.

Which inevitably led him to the memory of what had happened in that prefects' bathtub and the Room of Requirement, and it had _nothing_ to do with golden eggs or practicing offensive spells.

And _damn_ did he suddenly have the urge to practice some _offensive spells_.

Magic curled around his ankles. Boiled inside him. Afraid of damaging the channels in his arms, which he still hadn't tested for fear of being unable to cast anything from them ever again, he sucked his raging magic back into himself and confined it to his core.

That proved to be the worst possible solution. Ever dropped one of those mints into a bottle of coke and then tried to slam the lid shut again? Well, to say the least, an explosion was inevitable.

Or in this case, an implosion.

Now that he knew what he was feeling, he recognized the weird feelings that had raced through his body during the blur of sex he'd had with the being that had eaten Voldemort alive. Recognized the way his body had absorbed that magic into itself and started burning through it. There had been _so much magic_ that he hadn't noticed a drain in his own reserves, which was what usually happened at the end of one of his bouts of illness. But no, Set's magic had fed the illness.

And Cyrus's magic had just set off the proverbial bomb.

Collapsing to the ground, he tried to gain control over the fury of his magic, but it was far beyond his control. Puking on the floor, he tried to remain conscious through the pain that tore at his body. It felt as though liquid _fire_ pumped through his veins instead of blood. He hadn't felt like this since… that first time. The first time had been _bad_.

But in some ways, this felt even _worse_. Then, he'd been dying, but now… he felt _wrong_. Changing. There was something…

A fire lit in his chest and he gripped it in pain, collapsing completely onto the ground and passing out.

_oOo_

Rivehn rarely reassessed his opinion on something, but the events taking place before him were certainly not as entertaining as he envisioned. Instead they were quite _alarming_. Soon after coherence returned to Cyrus, he had been furious, but instead of channeling that fury into the man who had wronged him, he had channeled it into _himself_, the stupid little… truly, there weren't words to describe that boy at times.

And then he collapsed onto the floor, gripping his chest in agony and passing out. Rivehn saw Set turn around in surprise at the noise, and used that moment to activate the runes that he'd had built into every room of his manor. Runes that had been shaped from one of the rarest metals in Other Realm – blood metal. Only the elves knew how to make it, and it had cost him a truly ridiculous amount of money to pay for it all.

But at times like these, it was worth every coin. Exerting his will over the array he had spent decades designing for optimum efficiency and use, he activated the little-used sequence that ensnared any being he chose, sealed their magic, physically restrained them, and knocked them unconscious if he desired. The upside of home field advantage, so to speak. He had jewels all over the house that boosted any and all magic he chose to cast in his manor, and at that moment he used every single drop of their power to ensure that _Set_ was well and truly restrained.

He had neither the time nor the energy to spare for foolish mistakes or underestimating an enemy.

Set hit the ground like a sack of rocks, and Yankovich happily kicked him into the middle of the room with a pleased smirk on his face. "'Bout time you did something," he complained, rolling a kink out of his shoulder. "For a second there I thought you'd frozen up."

Rivehn snorted. "Hardly." Knowing that Yankovich would proceed to do what he could to restrain the enemy further with death magic, he turned his attention to the collapsed body of his student on the floor.

"Cyrus?" he asked cautiously, reaching out a hand to gently shake the human's shoulder. Just as quickly, he pulled away his arm when a large portion of his magic was sucked into the human's small frame.

A small frame that soon went into convulsions. There was little Rivehn could do to stop them besides remove furniture and books from the boy's immediate vicinity. With all his magic being absorbed through spell or touch, he couldn't risk any more contact with the human at this point, unless he wanted to chance Set going free.

Speaking of which… Rivehn stared at the jerking body of Set on his floor with no little amount of incredulity. He was chiseling away at Rivehn's restraining magic with a larger hammer! How was it possible that one man could have so much magic? And an unidentifiable _kind_ of magic at that?

Two things happened at the same time. Set broke free of his restraints with a flash of black power at the same time Cyrus's body exploded in an inferno of fire. Even Set, determined as he was to gain control over Rivehn and Yankovich, froze at the sight of the orange and yellow flames that, for some reason, failed to burn through the carpet on the floor or set any of Rivehn's books alight.

Finally, the inferno died down with a gust of wind that seemed to come from… wings. Wings on Cyrus's _back_. Wings that seemed to glow with the power and color of fire.

Set fell to his knees at the sight of Cyrus standing, wings extended behind him. Long, red hair floated in an unearthly wind, framing two molten lava eyes that seemed to shift colors even as you watched them. "R-Ra?" he whispered softly.

But Cyrus said nothing, continuing to stare at Set with an inhuman fury, eyes burning with bloodlust. Set bowed before the teenager and began to babble and plead for forgiveness from… _Ra_. Rivehn was hard pressed to believe that his former student had become a god, but what did he know?

_oOo_

It felt warm. Like a sun shining down on you on the white sands of your favorite beach. Except, he was his own personal sun and there were no unfortunate shadows to interrupt the glorious heat of his sun.

With the heat came a fury so deep he had scarcely felt something like it before in his entire life. He had been angry before, but fury… this emotion was scorching heat. Claws that ripped flesh from bone. Fire that burned from the inside until there was nothing but emotion, nothing but the moment, nothing but _heat_.

It took a moment for sanity to return. His eyes saw a man on his knees before him, but it took his brain a moment to catch up with the _who_, _why_, and _what_ of his present situation. When he _remembered_, though…

"Please, forgive me, my Lord Ra, I did not know! I did not know he was your vessel! I would never have taken had I-"

The fury took control again, bathing his world in red. Or perhaps that was the fire that spread from the touch of his hand on the man's bowed head to his entire, prostrate body. The purifying fires latched onto the black of the man's soul and burned and burned until his existence and magic purified and disappeared into ash.

He stared down at the pile of dust for a long moment before the strength left him and he found the world falling sideways.

The last thing he remembered before consciousness faded was a pair of familiar arms catching him.

_oOo_

When Cyrus woke next, it was to the familiar, uncomfortable mattress of a Svea bed and Tara's endless bitching.

"What do you mean he won't wake up for at least a few more days? He's already been sleeping for nearly a week! How much recovery time does a guy need? Xanthir is already up and at 'em and he doesn't have LEGS for chrissake!"

Cyrus almost laughed at that for a moment before the words clicked in. Xanthir didn't have _legs?_

Opening groggy eyes, he turned his head towards the source of the racket.

"Tara, if you insist on being loud and stubborn, I'm afraid I'm going to have to remove you from-"

"Oh look! He's awake! See, I told you he wouldn't be asleep for much longer."

Cyrus snorted. "Not with you making that God awful racket," he bitched. Well, rasped, really. Water please?

As if reading his mind, Tara shoved a straw into his mouth even as she helped him sit upright. "So, I hear you grew a pair of wings. Is that true?" Cyrus choked on the water and stared at her, uncomprehendingly. "What's with you getting upgrades while Xanthir doesn't even have _legs?_ Hm? I swear you're a walking bad luck charm."

A snort from the other side of the room had Cyrus turning his attention to Rivehn and Yankovich, both who seemed to have been in the room for a while now. "Bad luck charm to both his friends _and_ enemies," Yankovich said with a grin. "You should have seen him dust that last fucker. _Damn_."

Rivehn raised an eyebrow and gave Yankovich a look. "I do believe you have been watching too much of that Vampire Slayer series."

"What? You can never have enough Buffy!"

"I fail to see what is so interesting about a prepubescent child killing vampires off in droves."

"You fail to see a lot of the cool things in life."

A noncommittal grunt. "So, Cyrus, how do you feel?"

The human blinked. "Uh, fine? Well, besides tired and a bit sore."

Finally, someone else in the room spoke up. "Does he seriously have wings? When do we get to see them? Dibs on first ride."

Cyrus craned his head to see Xanthir sitting upright in bed, watching them with a happy grin on his face in spite of it all.

Tara grunted. "I have yet to see wings. Maybe he'll sprout them if I throw him out the window." Without further ado, she picked him up and carried him over to the nearest window.

Needless to say, life had returned to normal for one Cyrus Obsidian. Well, as normal as it could ever be.

_-Toki Mirage-_

And so BS ends… for those of you who haven't been keeping up with the messages on my profile… BS is over. Feel free to continue on to the Epilogue. At the bottom, you'll find a **present**.

**Blooper:**

The Death Eaters started bowing, and Cyrus's serious frown almost cracked into a shit-eating grin.

Unfortunately, Voldemort ruined his fun far too quickly.

"What are you doing, you ingrates? That is not a god! That is the intruder glowing like a glow stick!"

One of the Death Eaters turned to look at Voldemort. "What's a glow stick?"


	29. Chapter TwentyNine: Epilogue

**Bloody Skies**

_Warning: No eating, drinking, smoking, or reading in public places. Viewer discretion is advised._

_oOo_

Epilogue:

_oOo_

Cyrus wandered through the rubble of the Great Hall and frowned at the looks he was getting. It wasn't like he _wanted_ to be here on this stupid investigation unit. But no, Rivehn had insisted that he come and help decipher the events that had transpired a week ago.

The whole situation was one big clusterfuck, really. The Ministry of Magic was in complete disarray. They'd gone through at least three Ministers in the past couple months, apparently, with both assassinations and forced or willing retirement. Not to mention most of the Auror division had been sent to 'rescue' Hogwarts from the 'terrorist' that had befallen it, and had been subsequently wiped out by Set.

When Tara's aunt had shown up, claiming that the man who had killed so many at Hogwarts had attacked one of their council members, therefore giving them jurisdiction over the attack, it was happily shoved into the hands of their investigators on the condition that they shared their results with the Ministry. It was conveniently overlooked that this clan wasn't exactly a member of wizarding society as they knew it.

It never ceased to amaze Cyrus how stupid wizards could be. Honestly. A bunch of kids are killed at a school by a megalomaniac, and they give the investigation over to someone they've never even heard of before?

Tara's aunt must be some sweet talker. Or was it 'legal talker'?

Whatever.

"Hey! Over here!" someone shouted out from a corner of the room. Cyrus walked over curiously, along with Rivehn and Kephri. By the time he reached them, the vampire was holding what appeared to be a mostly undamaged scroll. "This is the most complete one I could find. The others will have be recovered very carefully. From what I've been able to make of the text, it appears to be Egyptian Hieroglyphs."

Rivehn peered at the papyrus thoughtfully. "It appears as though it's directions for the blood ritual. From what I've been able to gather from the runes still visible on the floor, it appears to be a summoning ritual. Cyrus, perhaps you could explain again what happened in more detail?"

The Shikaan student sighed. "Voldemort slit the throats of approximately twenty students in order to gather sufficient blood for the ritual. He chanted in a language I don't understand. I interrupted him part way through in order to bide more time, as I was planning on raising the dead bodies of the children as a distraction so I could destroy the part of the circle that kept us inside the circle. Unfortunately, even after some of the students escaped, it was apparently still enough for the ritual to succeed. I doubt Voldemort intended for that guy, Set, to take him over though. From what he was gloating about when I distracted him, he thought that the ritual would give him some kind of power. Instead, Set devoured his soul, which was apparently already damaged in some way. He made it sound like it was easy. After the explosion, some Aurors barged in and got themselves killed. After that, Set… captured me and made me his slave."

Rivehn had explained the whole thing to him when he'd awoken after the whole incident. Well, after Tara had tried to force him into growing wings again by tossing him through a window. Svea _still_ didn't know how that had happened, though he could tell Cyrus that his body had been altered on a fundamental level. Unfortunately, since he'd never seen anything like it before, his illness was still a big question mark floating above everyone's heads.

Cyrus tried to content himself with the fact that because of it, he'd _lived_.

Kephri nodded. "Is there anything else of note you can think to mention?"

Cyrus shook his head. "Not really. I mean, he was a bit… possessive. When I accidentally called someone else 'Master', he got really pissed off. But isn't that typical psychosis?"

Rivehn's head tilted to the side, his dark hair falling like a curtain with the movement. "Who else were you calling 'Master', Cyrus?"

The young necromancer wondered whether it would be a good idea to admit that… "Uh… you and Yankovich, apparently." He shrugged.

"Ah. I see." Rivehn nodded to himself as though that made sense. "The particular permutation of a slave bond that he used with you was typically created between Master and Apprentice during that time. Back then it was not unusual for student and teacher to engage in sexual acts, so it wasn't unusual for the delivery system of the seal to be sex magic."

And that was not something he ever wanted to think about again. Thanks, Rivehn. "What does that have to do with you and Yankovich?" he asked, fists clenching at his sides at the memory of Set's hands on his body.

"Yankovich and I have both been very influential when it comes to your education. Due to your abilities, it is not unusual that your magic has formed a bond with us and views us 'Master' and 'Apprentice', in a sense. The seal adapted to this bond, so you found yourself wanting to call us by the title of Master. Do you understand?"

Cyrus thought about it for a second. That… sort of made sense. "I guess." He wracked his brain. "But how is it that Set was able to create this ritual anyway and keep his soul alive?"

Rivehn and Kephri exchanged glances. "I'm afraid that I am not able to tell you all of the details, Cyrus, due to the fact that it is related to clan secrets… but suffice to say that we have been researching Egyptian history for quite some time. Powerful sorcerers like Set would have little difficulty creating a ritual of that magnitude with the knowledge of magic and sacrifices they had at their disposal."

Clan secrets? Uh huh…

"If you have nothing else to add, Mr. Obsidian, I must insist that you leave the rest of the investigation to us. Rivehn? If you could return him to Shikaan, please."

Rivehn raised an eyebrow but did as she asked, placing a hand on Cyrus's shoulder and melting them into the shadows on the floor.

When they reappeared in Rivehn's office at Shikaan, Cyrus couldn't help but ask a question that had been bothering him for quite some time. "Rivehn… why exactly did Set call me 'Ra'?"

The vampire took a seat on the edge of his desk with an amused expression. "It's ironic, isn't it, that a being of his power could let religion blind him to the point that he let a sixteen-year-old kill him. Belief is a powerful thing. As a powerful priest and sorcerer from ancient Egyptian times, he inevitably believed that gods such as Ra existed. As a god of the sun, to Set it was obvious that you were an avatar or a vessel of that power. As he had turned you into his slave, he had disrespected this powerful god. He let you kill him for that reason."

Cyrus stared. "You're kidding. I took him out just because I grew a pair of wings and my hair and eyes changed colour?" Self-consciously, he ruffled the mop of red hair that now sat on the top of his head. His colours hadn't changed ever since his odd transformation more than a week ago. It had gotten to the point where, instead of answering the curious questions of classmates, he just started to ignore them.

A smirk twisted Rivehn's lips. "Hard to believe, isn't it? We live in a different age now. No longer do we search for the favor and forgiveness of beings from above. Some still worship the old gods, but their numbers are few."

Cyrus hummed thoughtfully to himself, fingering the two wands that Tara had recovered from Egypt for him.

"Do you have any other questions? I do have an investigation to return to."

Fiery eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Rivehn slipped off the desk and bent slightly to meet Cyrus eye to eye. "We expect great things from you, Cyrus," he breathed quietly, power dancing like amethyst light in his deep, violet eyes. The human froze and stared as the vampire's spicy scent reached his nose. "Don't forget that."

Without a word, he vanished into shadow.

Cyrus stared at Rivehn's desk for a long, drawn out moment as his brain tried to get back on the tracks. Damn. How did that guy _always_ get some sort of reaction out of him? It was driving him nuts.

And why did he leave Cyrus alone in his office? Was it some kind of test? To see if Cyrus wouldn't touch or read anything?

Grumbling under his breath, he left the office and locked it behind him. Damn that guy made less sense with every _week_.

_oOo_

_A few months later…_

"C'mon, Cyrus! What are you, a damned chicken? Get your ass out here and face me like a man!"

Cyrus grimaced. Why had he asked Tara for help with training again? Oh yeah, he didn't want to _die_ during the crazy ass Weapons and Battle exam. What cruel bastard had thought up that kind of torture anyway? He'd only seen a glimpse of the obstacle course from hell, and he _knew_ it was going to blow balls.

"C'MON YOU GODDAMNED CHICKEN SHIT!"

An explosion ripped apart the tree right next to the one he was hiding in. Uh oh. Looks like it was time to face the music.

Calling his wings from his back, he jumped up into the sky and formed a ball of fire in his hands.

But Tara was already flying towards him. Cursing, he veered off to the side and cast a shield spell.

"NO MAGIC YOU DICK! This is to train your new abilities, not rot your GODDAMNED BRAIN!"

The rune-covered sword came out of nowhere, and the blunt side of it smacked into his ribs and knocked him to the ground.

"You're still too damned slow, Cyrus! How do you expect any of this shit to help you in a battle if you can't even match a vampire's speed?"

Cyrus growled and pushed himself to his feet. Focusing the magic thrumming through his body into his limbs, he disintegrated his wings and used his light weight to get inside her guard. Instead of looking alarmed, however, she just grinned as he landed a fire-covered fist in her stomach. Flying backwards through the air, she flipped and got her feet back under her before she crashed into the ground.

"Bout TIME!" she shouted, spinning her sword and funnelling power into it, making it glow with power. Cursing under his breath, Cyrus focused on the air in front of him and created a wall of fire.

Which sputtered into nothingness and faded along with the glow of his skin. Collapsing to the ground with his sudden change of weight, he groaned at the sight of Tara still charging in. Fuck. Rolling to the side to avoid her attack, he flooded his channels with death magic and reached into the earth beneath.

"WHAT?" Tara snapped when she saw the dead animals starting to move towards her. "Are you seriously out of magic _already?_ Do you realize how easy it's going to be to kill you if you burn through it that quickly? I swear, you are the biggest freak of nature I've ever met." Swinging her sword, she discharged energy from the blade and incinerated all the corpses in one go.

Baring her fangs at him, she vanished her sword and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're never going to be able to use these abilities in battle if you keep burning through magic like butter, Cyrus. You need to get more serious."

The necromancer scowled. "Getting serious doesn't change a damned thing, Tara. Nothing I do decreases consumption."

Letting out a sigh, she fell gracefully to the ground, legs crossed beneath her. "Honestly. How you can continue to be so pathetic astounds me."

Cyrus glared. "It's not like my _illness_ has ever worked in my favour before. Why would it start now? Even when it was just in the developmental stages, it ate magic faster than Xanthir eats Doritos."

She smirked. "He does like those damned chips." When Cyrus just sighed and fell back to lay against the ground, she frowned. "Hey. Don't give up so easily, little bitch. I'm not training you so you can throw in the towel like a little girl."

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "Do you ever get tired of insulting me?"

She grinned. "Nope!"

_oOo_

"XANTHIR! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!"

Cyrus watched in alarm as a certain cackling, leg-less werewolf zipped by on a magic wheel chair that had apparently been retrofitted with rockets. Tara ran after him, swinging her sword about with a scream of fury.

"GIVE BACK MY HANKY PANKY!"

_oOo_

"You sure this is a good idea?"

Zachary smiled. "The dojo is fire-proof, Cyrus, regardless of the materials it's made of. You will not be able to burn it down. Now, shall we begin? Tara _has_ charged me with training you while she's on vacation."

Cyrus grumbled. "You sure we couldn't just go do something fun? Like soak in that hot spring you got out back? Or maybe play a game of Go?"

"I thought you said you hated that game." Without waiting for Cyrus's answer, he charged straight on.

_Ten minutes later…_

Cyrus stared in dismay at the wreckage laid out before them. Damnit. He _knew_ it was a bad idea training in a wooden building…

Zachary stood beside him, arms crossed serenely over his chest and eyes closed. "It can be rebuilt."

A red eyebrow rose in incredulity. "You're kidding, right? Your grandpa's going to murder us."

Zachary nodded sagely. "Yes. Perhaps it is best we engage in another activity for the rest of the day. Have you ever gone sky diving?"

_oOo_

"Rivehn, I was wondering if I could ask a-"

Cyrus froze in the entrance to Rivehn's office.

Yankovich got up off his knees and blocked Rivehn's rather _naked_ lower half from view. "I knew I should have shut and locked that door. Whoops."

Rivehn put a hand to his forehead and sighed.

_oOo_

Buuurp.

Numerous students in the quiet library twitched at the sound before returning to their work.

Beeeelch.

Heads rose and looked around for the culprit to no avail.

Buuu-

Silence.

Tara looked around suspiciously along with everyone else. She never should have eaten those oysters. Thank God for silencing charms.

_oOo_

"Must _focus_, short-sighted one! Concentration, very necessary it is in order to master death magic."

Cyrus sighed at the sight of Gyrdrich in Yankovich's office instead of the shadow demon himself. "Yankovich is… out on 'business' again, isn't he."

The fire demon shot a blast at him and Cyrus batted it away with a raised eyebrow. "Ah yes, my incompetent apprentice did say you had gained new fire. How is this so?"

The not-quite-so-human sighed and ran a hand through his red locks. "Potter luck."

"You are a potter? Splendid! I have many broken dishes. You will make me more. Yes, it will be part of your training."

Cyrus stared at him in dismayed disbelief.

_oOo_

Frrrt

Rivehn twitched and kept scribbling away at a report on his desk. Honestly. The incompetence of some of the younger vampire generation never ceased to-

FRT

The pen in his hand snapped in half and would have sprayed ink all over his face and papers if not for his quick spell casting. Just as he was reaching for another pen-

FRRRGHT

"Alright! That's enough!"

The only other person in the room turned to look at him in surprise. Rivehn spun on him with irritation burning in his eyes.

"Yankovich! Get rid of that ghastly thing this instant before I eradicate it! This is becoming beyond ridiculous."

The demon frowned with a 'hurt' expression on his face. "B-but, Rivehn! Bob can't help that he's decomposing in your study. Isn't that right Bob?"

The zombie didn't so much as twitch.

_Frrrrrrrt_

_oOo_

"Is that a…"

Pause. Cyrus ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure you wanna touch that."

"But it's…"

Xanthir made a face. "No, seriously. It could be toxic. For all we know it's rabbit spleen." Two heads turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. "I'm serious! There's this one time, it was actually _rat brains_, and- I was scarred for life!"

Yalmireth snorted derisively. "I highly doubt you were ever forced to consume _rat brains_."

A very solemn and serious expression darkened the werewolf's face. "_You don't know Tara's childhood tea parties like I do._"

~_Toki Mirage~_

Apparently some people aren't reading my messages…

_**IF YOU WANT **__**20,000 MORE WORDS**__** OF **__**AWESOME**__** THEN GO TO THE LINK BELOW. HAPPY B-DAY, MERRY XMAS, WHAT-HAVE-YOU.**_

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